The Proposition
by Jane Elliott
Summary: John is determined to jump start his catering business by snagging the most important gig in town: the Pegasus Labs Charity Ball. Things get a little messy, however, when John meets Pegasus's owner, Rodney McKay. John/Rodney. A Harlequin fic.


**The Proposition  
by  
Jane Elliot**

John Sheppard loved his family, he really did. Just...not at the moment. "_Aiden_," he shouted at the top of his lungs.

A few seconds later, Aiden sprinted into the office. "Yeah?"

John pointed at the e-mail displayed on his computer screen, the one stating that Aiden and Laura were both taking the next day off for an audition. "What the fuck is this?"

Aiden grinned. "Great, isn't it?"

John stared at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"No," Aiden said cheerfully.

John glowered at him and Aiden's bright grin dimmed. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's _wrong_?" John closed his eyes and counted to ten before he committed fratricide. Once he was sure he could speak without throttling his youngest brother to death, he gritted out, "Did you even check the calendar before you decided to take tomorrow off?"

"Well, no," Aiden said cautiously. "I mean, I know we're on the schedule but it's just a party, right?"

John took a deep breath to shout some more, then abruptly let it out in a sigh. It's not like it was Aiden's fault, or even Laura's. John had never cared in the past whether or not they gave advance notice before calling off, and John hadn't exactly made a point to explain how important tomorrow night's party was. "Never mind," he said wearily. "It doesn't matter.

Aiden still appeared hesitant. It didn't suit the open planes of his face. "So...can we have tomorrow off?"

"Sure," John said, just barely managing to keep the frustration out of his voice. He knew catering was a side job for Aiden and Laura while they pursued their dream. Hell, he was the one who had encouraged them to start applying for various special effects houses in the first place. Aiden was only doing what John had told him to do. With that in mind, John was able to honestly add, "Good luck at the audition."

"Thanks," Aiden said, some of his earlier good humor returning. "It's just second unit work, but it's for a really big picture. Rod Johnson's starring." His grin was back in full force now. "You know what that means, don't you?"

John raised his eyebrows. "You get to blow shit up?" he guessed.

"We get to blow shit up," Aiden confirmed gleefully.

Even in his current dismal mood, John had to smile at that. "Good luck," he said. "Though you won't need it. No one blows up shit like you and Laura."

"You remember when we blew up that storage shed?" Aiden asked with a soft smile.

"You mean the storage shed I built?" John asked pointedly.

"Yeah," Aiden said dreamily.

John rolled his eyes. "Get out of here and make yourself useful. If you're not going to wait at the Pegasus party, then you need to help with prep to get paid for this week. Go see what Jonas needs you to do in the kitchen."

"Sir, yes, sir," Aiden snapped out with a mock salute. John flipped him off as he left.

Alone again, John dropped his head into his hands and sighed. Where the hell was he going to find to two experienced waiters by tomorrow?

ooo

John's life had never been entirely normal. It wasn't his fault; he himself was a very normal guy. His family, on the other hand, was decidedly strange.

It all started at the top. James "Jimmy" and Annabelle "you'll call me Annabelle and like it, Mister" Sheppard were not your average parents. In fact, they were the strangest parents John had ever met and, considering he grew up in the theater that was saying something.

Jimmy Sheppard was a second class actor with a first class sense of humor working in a third class acting troupe. His fame (such as it was) came from his infamous "The General Does Baghdad" skit, which was so inflammatory that if it had been seen by anyone with an ounce of influence it probably would have ended up on Comedy Central. Fortunately or not, the rest of Jimmy's troupe lacked both talent and initiative and being the star of their show didn't do a thing to raise Jimmy's visibility.

If Annabelle had been a typical wife, she probably would have pushed Jimmy to cut himself off from the troupe that was holding him back. Certainly the Sheppard family could have used the additional funds that increased exposure would have brought. Annabelle, however, had never been typical. A pretty, but not beautiful, woman, Annabelle had gotten her big break at twenty-nine with a small role in ER that was expanded to several episodes over the course of the first season. When the producers approached her about making her a regular the following season, she turned them down because she didn't want to spend that much time away from her family.

She never worked in the film industry again.

Instead she spent the next few years taking increasingly odd jobs, from standing on the street corner dressed up as the Statue of Liberty to working in a car wash with a string-bikini dress code to making chain mail for Renaissance Faires. She always wore her hair in two long braids and never used makeup, not even lipstick.

John had loved his parents, and even though some of their antics embarrassed the hell out of him, he knew they did their best to let him choose his own path in life. His name was just one indication of this. He knew Annabelle had always wanted a child named Sun, but she and Jimmy went with a more conservative choice. John's middle name was Rainbow, just in case he wanted to be unique, but John had never been tempted to use it.

John's birth had been difficult and the doctors had told Annabelle that her first baby would be her last. Annabelle being Annabelle, she had taken the news that she could no longer have children as a personal challenge and promptly went on to adopt as many kids as the state would allow.

Carson was the first, adopted at the age of two, when John was five. Carson's mom had died of cancer and no one knew who his father was. He was a quiet, studious child who spent more time with Gilbert (the family's half-lab, half-mongrel garbage disposal) and Sullivan (the tyrannical tabby cat) than he did with any of his human family members. John mostly ignored him when they were younger. When they were older, John stoutly defended Carson against bullies, though he drew the line at actually socializing with the school geek.

Two years later came Laura. Laura was very enthusiastically two years old and by the end of the first week she had terrorized Carson into hiding under the bed whenever she entered his room. John, very full of seven-year-old dignity, refused to be cowed by his new baby sister, though he quickly learned not to leave his hair within reach of her tiny hands. From the very beginning she displayed a fascination with destruction and quickly became an expert in demolition. Surprisingly, she and Carson became the closest of friends, which was how the school geek ended up eating lunch at the cheerleaders' table.

A year after that, Ronon and Teyla were adopted. They weren't related to each other by birth, but from the beginning they had shared an obvious connection. Ronon had come from an abusive household, and spent much of his first year acting out. Teyla, who had come to them with hollow eyes and a tendency to flinch when anyone got too close, was the only one who was able to reach him. By the time the two of them had finally settled into their new life, they were inseparable. Though Teyla and, eventually, Ronon were respectful and polite, they never had any friends other than each other. Frankly, John found them a little creepy and it took a long time for him to warm up to them.

Seven years passed and John grew complacent, confident that his parents had finally decided that they had enough children for one family. He should have known better.

Along came Miko and Aiden, adopted a year apart and respectively seven and four years old. Miko's past was fuzzy and the snatches of information that John picked up through the judicious use of eavesdropping made it sound like she was a refugee from a Lifetime movie of the week. He figured her actual story wasn't that interesting, but just in case he avoided asking her any direct questions. Aiden was a sunny child with a brilliant smile. He spilled his milk a lot. John left him to Laura's tender mercies and in no time he was obsessed with demolition as well.

More might have eventually followed if Jimmy and Annabelle hadn't died in a plane crash three years later. John, who had been seriously considering joining the Air Force, suddenly discovered a phobia to flying. Besides, there was no way he could enlist now. Someone had to take care of the kids, and there wasn't anyone else available. Not without them going back into the foster care system, and that wasn't an option.

So, at eighteen years of age and newly the head of a large household, John Sheppard had gone hunting for a job.

ooo

A knock on the door interrupted John's reminiscing. "Yeah?" he called out, grateful for the interruption. He didn't have time to get lost in his thoughts. Not with the most important job of his life less than a day away.

Laura popped her head in. "Sorry, bro, but we've got a problem." She stepped into the office, holding a swath of hideous teal cloth.

John frowned. "What's that?"

"Tablecloths," Laura said grimly.

"Oh, God," John said, slumping even deeper into his chair.

"Sorry," Laura said again. "Arrived just a few minutes ago from Pegasus Labs. They sent plate and silver, too."

"It's not teal, is it?" John asked, without much hope.

"And black and silver," Laura said and a small smile slipped out.

"Well, no one ever said Rodney McKay had taste," John said standing up with a sigh. "Come on, let's see it laid out."

It didn't take long to set up a table and John was surprised by the result. In the open light of the prep room the table cloth looked more blue than teal, and it was shot through with silver thread. The plate was not solid teal, as he had feared, but instead was high-quality porcelain with a silver finish and trimmed with black. Yes, it sported the occasional touch of teal, but rather than being tacky, the hints of color served to relieve the starkness of the black and silver. The simple silverware and sleek glassware both contributed to the clean lines of the table. The overall effect was spare and attractive and John had to admit that he might have underestimated Dr. McKay. "Not bad," he said out loud.

"It's okay," Laura said grudgingly. "Thin plates."

"No doubt expensive," John said dryly. "Good thing you and Aiden aren't serving."

"We don't break plates," Laura said defensively. John just looked at her. "Okay, fine. _Sometimes_ we break plates. Occasionally. Every once in a while. Accidentally." John continued to look at her and she crossed her arms. "I just hope you got those alternate uniforms I suggested."

"I told you, we can't afford--oh shit." John stared at the table in front of him, trying to picture one of his waiters serving while wearing the uniform of Atlantis Catering. The cream and black uniform, the one that looked so good next to Atlantis's own tablecloths due to its warm coloring... "Oh, shit," he repeated, and hollered, "Miko!"

A second later, Miko hurried in. "Yes?" she asked, wiping floury hands onto a neat white towel. She raised her eyebrows at the dressed table.

"Can Jonas spare you for a few minutes?" John asked. With everything else going wrong, the worst thing he could do right now was piss off his head chef.

Miko cleared her throat delicately. "Aiden's helping him."

John groaned. He'd forgotten about that. "Laura, go keep Aiden out of trouble."

Laura snapped to attention. "Aye, aye--" John glared at her. "Ahem. Right." She shot him a cheeky grin and scampered off.

"Do you think it's too late to separate them?" John asked Miko.

"Probably," she said, still inspecting the table. "What's this?"

John looked at the table as well. "Pegasus sent it over."

"Nice. Doesn't match the uniforms."

"I know." John sighed. "Think you could rustle up something? Black on black, maybe?" He looked at her hopefully. Miko could sometimes perform miracles.

"Maybe," Miko said.

Maybe. That meant yes. John grinned and caught her up into a big hug. "You know, you're my favorite sister."

Miko just smacked him on the head. "Put me down." John hastily put her down. She produced a notebook and a pen. "Who's serving?"

"I'm not sure yet," John admitted. Miko eyed him skeptically, so he explained, "Aiden and Laura just called off."

"You're a pushover," she answered mildly.

"They're just following their dream," John said. He sank into one of the folding chairs that dotted the room. "Nothing wrong with dreaming."

Miko didn't argue the point, not that John had expected her to. How could she, when she was currently living her own dream of graduate school? College was an expensive proposition, even with scholarships covering part of the bill, and there hadn't been enough money for everyone. The entire family had worked hard so that Carson and Miko would have the opportunity to explore their passion for higher learning. Now it was Aiden and Laura's chance to do what they loved. "I'll need to know by six," she said finally. "I can't promise anything later than that."

"Thanks, Miko," John said, kissing her on the forehead. She just shook her head at him and returned to the kitchen.

Alone, John stared at the lovely, unique table before him and sighed. "This is going to be a disaster."

ooo

The first person John called in his quest for additional waiters was Carson. He had to hold the phone away from his ear to keep from being deafened by the cacophony of animal noises on the other end of the line. "Carson?"

"No!"

John winced. Not a good start. "Um, no what?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.

"I'm sorry, John, I was talking to the dog. No! No! Ginny, get your teeth out of Alexander's rump! Ginny, I'm warning you--don't you--ow!"

John bolted upright. "Carson, are you all right?" Ginny was a pit bull, one of the guard dogs Ronon and Teyla trained in their spare time. Eventually she would be honed to a living lethal weapon. John didn't want to find out the hard way that she was getting ahead of the learning curve.

"Fine, John," Carson sighed. "I just tripped over Ginny, the hyperactive minx. When is Ronon coming by to pick her up, anyway?"

"I'm sorry," John said, letting out a gust of relieved breath. "He and Teyla are pulling double duty this week. And now that Laura and Aiden aren't going to be around tomorrow--" He left it hanging, knowing Carson would get the hint.

"Oh," Carson said, sounding like it hadn't occurred to him that he would be asked to help tomorrow. Coming from anyone else, John would have assumed Carson was messing with him, because of course John was going to call him for help. Who else was there to call? On the other hand, Carson didn't mess around with people, not even people in his own family. "I'm sorry, John, I can't."

John frowned. "Is everything all right?"

"Of course," Carson said in the least convincing tone of voice possible. "Why wouldn't it be?"

John's mouth dropped open. Carson had just lied to him, except that Carson _never_ lied to him, at least not since Mom and Dad had died. Now John didn't know what to do. Should he call Carson on the untruth, or let it slide since Carson obviously didn't want to tell him what was really going on? "Hot date?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes," Carson said quickly. Too quickly.

John closed his eyes and decided not to ask any more questions. He didn't think he could take a third lie. "Okay," he said. "Have fun."

"Thanks, John," Carson said sincerely. He cleared his throat. "Maybe Jack would know someone."

"Yeah, maybe," John answered. He held back a sigh as they said their goodbyes and he gently set the handset into the cradle, despite the fact that what he really wanted to do was rip the phone out of the wall and throw it across the room. What was going on in Carson's life that was so bad that he couldn't even tell his family about it?

John stood up and started for the door. If anyone knew what was going on with Carson, it would be Laura. Of course, she had probably been sworn to secrecy, but once he got her going, it would just be a matter of time...

Time. John stopped halfway to the door and glanced at his watch. It was already after five, which meant he had less than an hour to find at least two experienced, reliable waiters who were available on a Saturday night. Waiters were a dime a dozen in LA, but experienced, reliable waiters available on weekends were worth their weight in gold. Where the hell was he going to find someone at this late notice?

For a moment, John considered taking Carson's advice and calling Jack. Jack O'Neill owned several of the hottest restaurants and nightclubs in LA and both James and Annabelle had worked for him at one point or another. After their deaths, Jack had given John the desperately needed job that had allowed John to keep his family together. Over the next few years John had worked virtually every job available in the restaurant, learning as much as he could about the industry. When he had decided to start his own catering business, Jack had offered him a personal loan and some second-hand equipment to help him get started. Without Jack O'Neill, Atlantis Catering would never have existed, much less survived this long.

John knew for a fact that Jack had a whole list of weekday waiters who would appreciate the chance to pick up a little work on the side and he also knew that Jack wouldn't hesitate to make the list available to John. Still, he hesitated.

The Pegasus Labs Charity Ball was a coup for Atlantis Catering, a huge step in the company's quest for long term financial stability, but it was more than that. Not only was Pegasus the biggest client Atlantis had ever had, it was also the first client that had been acquired entirely independently from John's connection with Jack. Unlike all of Atlantis's previous jobs, this one had not come from a referral. This time John had actually sought out the company, researching its monthly and sometimes bimonthly events and shamelessly schmoozing Sora, Rodney McKay's executive assistant and the person responsible for organizing all Pegasus Labs events. It had taken a lot of time, food, and charm to woo Pegasus from the Hilton Hotel, their previous caterer, but John had put in the effort and had waltzed off with one of the most coveted catering jobs in town. This ball was Atlantis's chance to finally step off of Jack's shoulders and stand on its own. For the first time, Atlantis was playing in the big leagues, and the possibilities were endless. A success tomorrow night could easily lead to a year of future engagements, maybe more. Atlantis and, more importantly, the Sheppard family, would finally be financially secure, all because of John's conquest.

If, however, he called Jack now, the success would be tainted. Instead of a bold foray into the upper echelons of the corporate world, the ball would become just another potential disaster from which John had had to be rescued. Even if Atlantis came out ahead, the evening would always carry the pall of personal failure in John's mind. Of course, John would never sacrifice his family's welfare for his own pride. If he wasn't able to find someone else before Miko's deadline, he would call Jack. Even though it would prove once again that John Sheppard was a hopeless screw-up, at least Atlantis would be safe.

Until then, however, he was going to explore every other avenue available to him, no matter how unpleasant. With that in mind, John opened the top drawer of his desk and reached way into the back for a small book with a black cover. Each page in the book had a name and a brief description, but no phone number. Those were stored in his head.

John bit his lip thoughtfully as he flipped through the names. Finally he found one that might be doable. With a sigh, he started dialing. This wasn't going to be fun.

"Hello?"

John took a deep breath. "Lorne? This is John Sheppard."

There was a very, very long pause. "Really?" Lorne finally said.

John gritted his teeth. "Really."

"You wouldn't happen to be the same John Sheppard who promised to call three months ago after a night of incredible fucking, would you?"

God, this was even worse than he'd expected. "The same," John ground out.

"The same John Sheppard who said that he wasn't a player, despite his reputation? The same John Sheppard who said our instant connection 'really meant something'? The same John Sheppard who said that he was 'looking for something more than an easy lay' and who--"

John snapped. "Okay! I get it. I'm sorry, okay?"

"Think nothing of it," Lorne said breezily.

John seriously considered hanging up. Unfortunately, he needed help and Lorne was at the top of a very short list of people who could help him. And, when push came to shove, John really had acted like a jerk. So, swallowing his pride, he said, "I mean it, Lorne. I was an asshole, and I apologize."

There was a pause and when Lorne spoke again the mockery in his voice was gone. "I knew what I was getting into. Not your fault that you lived up to your reputation. So, what do you want?"

John thought about apologizing again, but decided it wasn't a good idea to harp on how much of an ass he had been. Instead, he asked, "Didn't you tell me you were a waiter between acting gigs?"

"Yep," Lorne said. "Best in the business."

Which was no doubt a matter of opinion, but beggars couldn't be choosers. "How'd you like to make a couple hundred bucks?"

Brief pause. "I might be interested. When?"

"Tomorrow night." John held his breath.

"Yeah, I'm free."

John let out his pent-up breath in a relieved _woosh_. "Five till midnight?"

"Make it three hundred?"

"Deal," John said quickly. "Thanks."

"No problem," Lorne said, and John could hear the smile in his voice. "But you're lucky it really was an incredible night of fucking."

ooo

At six o'clock on the nose, John handed Miko a slip of paper with a list of six names. "Jonas?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Just in case," John said. "I'll be helping out too, but you don't need to get me anything. I'll be wearing a suit."

Miko nodded and finished reading the list, pausing again when she got to the last two. "Cameron Mitchell and Lorne. Lorne?"

"I don't remember his first name," John said sheepishly. Times like these, he would gladly give up his ability to instantly memorize phone numbers if it would give him a better head for names.

Miko nodded again, this time looking thoughtful. "Both these names sound familiar."

John flushed and answered quickly, "I don't want to talk about it."

"You're the boss," she said, with a casual shrug that meant she was laughing inside, putting her favorite sister status in serious jeopardy.

Before his dignity could be tattered further, John headed for the safety of his office.

ooo

John's first thought on waking up on Saturday was: _Holy shit, the ball is today._

His second was: _What's up with Carson? I should have found time to talk to Laura last night._

His third: _Oh, __shit_. I forgot the business cards!

At which point he rolled out of bed, jerked on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and headed for the door.

The day flew by. John picked up his freshly dry cleaned suit, the nearly-forgotten business cards (specially redesigned for the ball), and last minute groceries for Jonas. Then he went home for a quick shower before heading to the Hilton to set up tables and chairs in the ball room, dining room, and reception area that had been reserved for the event. John, Ronon, and Teyla worked quickly and efficiently, despite the glares and muttered comments of the Hilton staff that kept passing through the room. The Hilton employees were apparently holding a grudge over losing the Pegasus Labs gig. After Ronon snarled at a belligerent cook, however, the room emptied out and stayed empty.

John had hoped he would have time to swing by Carson's before the ball, but it was nearly three when the rooms were finally set up. He barely had time to return home to change and do his hair before his pre-party meeting with Sora.

As John strode into the hotel for the last time before the party (adjusting his cuffs and checking his hair in every available reflective surface), he decided to save worrying about Carson until first thing Sunday morning. For the rest of the evening nothing was more important than making Atlantis Catering the premier catering firm in LA.

John was supposed to meet Sora in the reception room, but when he got there the only person he saw was a stocky man of medium height, with startling blue eyes and a crooked mouth. He was wearing a well-cut tux that emphasized the strength in his chest and shoulders, though it couldn't quite cover up a bit of softness at the man's waist. Not bad looking, in a unique sort of way, but not someone John would put much effort into picking up.

Whoever the man was, he definitely wasn't Sora. John looked back out in the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of her brilliant red hair. No luck. His frown deepening, he returned to the reception room to keep an eye on the stranger. Who was this guy, anyway, and why was he here? The only people who should be in this room were Atlantis Catering staff.

Deciding that the best defense was a good offense, John plastered on his most charming smile and walked up to the tuxedoed man. "Hi," he said, holding out his hand. "Can I help you?"

"Dr. Rodney McKay," the man said, taking John's hand in a firm grip. "I'm looking for a John Sheppard."

This couldn't be good. With an effort, John kept his smile intact. "That's me. Delighted to meet you, sir."

"I doubt you'll think so when you hear my news," McKay said, taking back his hand. "Sora's been fired." John's stomach dropped to the vicinity of his feet, but McKay wasn't finished. "From here on out, you'll be dealing directly with me."

John felt as if he had been sucker punched in the gut. "Fired?" he repeated numbly. "Why?"

McKay crossed his arms. "How much do you know about industrial espionage?"

"Pretty much nothing," John admitted, his breath coming a little easier as he realized Sora hadn't been fired for hiring him. Not that hiring Atlantis Catering should be a firing offense or anything, but--

"Good," McKay said and promptly changed the subject. "Now, could you please explain to me why these tables are covered with hideous green cloth?"

John glanced at the nearest table. It really didn't look that bad, but he wasn't about to say so out loud. "Sora sent them over, along with the plate and silver."

McKay snorted inelegantly. "I see her taste in table design is as questionable as her taste in business associates. What alternatives do you have?"

John's eyes widened. Even if they had Atlantis's tablecloths and dishes on site, which they didn't, there was no way he could strip all of the tables and set them back up again in time for the party. "The ball starts in less than an hour," he said, trying hard not to panic.

McKay frowned and glanced at his watch. "Damn. Next time, then."

_Next time._ In an instant, John went from panic to elation. McKay was planning on using them next time. "Absolutely," he said, doing his best not to sound like a teenager who'd just scored a date with the head cheerleader to the prom. "We usually use cream cloths, with gold trimmed china and--"

"Yes, yes," McKay said. He glanced at his watch again. "What time do your people get here? I'm a very busy man, you know."

John gaped at him and his mouth spoke before his brain had gotten past the other man's monumental rudeness. "I'm sure you are."

Which was not the best thing to say to your most important client, but at least it got McKay's attention off of his watch. "You don't believe me?" he asked, looking annoyed.

"I didn't mean that," John lied.

It didn't help. "I do have more important things I could be doing right now," McKay said huffily. "I'm the most intelligent man on the planet. The very future of mankind could very well depend on how efficiently I use my time."

"Modest, too," John's mouth said dryly. _Shut **up**_, his brain hissed.

Instead of getting more angry, however, McKay merely waved his hand dismissively. "Modesty was invented so that stupid people would never have to be confronted by their limitations. I refuse to perpetuate such an idiotic notion."

This time John caught his mouth before it said anything too horrible and changed the subject to something safer. "We're actually right on schedule, so if you need to get ready for the party, there's no need for you to stay."

John had expected McKay would be happy for the chance to escape, but instead the scientist looked downright panicked. "Why, don't I look ready?" he asked, sounding nervous. "It's the tux, isn't it? I shouldn't have worn the tux." He dropped his head into his hands and added miserably, "Why couldn't Sora have sold company secrets _next_ week? She usually tells me what to wear to these things."

"Uh," John said intelligently. He thought McKay didn't like Sora's taste in fabric, but maybe that only applied to tablecloths. One thing was for sure: being around Rodney McKay was a non-stop emotional roller coaster. "The tux looks fine."

McKay looked up hopefully. "Really?"

"Really," John said. His traitorous mouth added, "Looks great on you." John bit his lip to hide a wince as he realized how that sounded. Great. Now he was hitting on his employer. At this rate not only would there not be a next time, McKay might just fire him before there could be a this time.

Thankfully, McKay seemed oblivious to the flirting. "I hate these things, you know," he said in a mournful tone. "These parties are a waste of my time."

Or maybe the good doctor was just self-absorbed. Fortunately, John had grown up in LA and thus had plenty of practice with self-absorbed people. "Really?" he asked, infusing his voice with far more interest than he actually felt. "Why have them then?"

"Politics," McKay said with a sigh. "For some reason it looks better to throw away a lot of money on a charity ball than it does to just donate a few million directly to the charities. Further proof, if more were needed, that the world is populated by morons."

John was saved from having to come up with a response to that by the arrival of his crew. His chest puffed up in pride as Ronon, Teyla, Miko, Jonas, Lorne, and Cameron all lined up near the door, looking very sharp indeed in short-waisted black tuxedo jackets over black shirts and pants and accented by black ties. "Right on time," John said with a grin. "Nice work on the uniforms, Miko." She gifted him with a rare smile.

McKay stood up from his chair and cleared his throat softly. John flushed as he realized he'd forgotten the introductions. Really, what was wrong with him tonight? Someone who didn't know him would think he'd never interacted with people before. "Sorry. Dr. McKay, this is my crew. Jonas and Miko will be in the kitchen and Ronon, Teyla, Lorne, and Cameron will be handling waiting duties." Lorne's eyebrows raised at John's use of his last name, but he didn't say anything, for which John was profoundly grateful.

"Nice to meet you," McKay said. A flurry of reciprocation followed.

There was an awkward silence until John rolled his eyes and stepped forward. "Time's running short, folks. You know what to do. Get to it."

Jonas and Miko immediately started for the kitchen. Ronon and Teyla surrounded Lorne and jostled him toward the door closest to the service entrance. Cameron followed Lorne.

McKay watched until everyone had left, then turned to John. "You know, your staff is remarkably attractive."

"Yeah," John agreed. What else was there to say? It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the Sheppard family had more than its fair share of beauty. John, with his bony body, tiny eyes, and out of control hair, was the least attractive of the bunch. If he didn't love his brothers and sisters so much, he'd probably be jealous.

McKay looked thoughtful. "The taller woman -- did you say her name was Teya?"

Crap. John could see this was going nowhere good. "Teyla," he corrected. "But--"

"She's seeing someone?" McKay said, sounding disappointed.

John hesitated. The truth was that Teyla and Ronon weren't dating at the moment. However, he wasn't sure how to explain to McKay that Teyla only came as part of a package deal, especially when the other half of the package was male. Even a liberal, open-minded man might have issues with the arrangement, and thus far Rodney McKay hadn't seemed either liberal or open-minded.

Clearly the truth wasn't an option. John had just opened his mouth to lie when a tiny man with wild hair entered the room and made a beeline for McKay. Based on the quality of the stranger's impeccable tuxedo, John was guessing this was another employee of Pegasus Labs. "Rodney, come quickly," the man said with a thick Eastern European accent. He ignored John completely. "The Dragon Lady is here." He stopped and glanced at the nearest table. "Is that tablecloth teal?"

McKay rolled his eyes. "Yes. Hideous, isn't it?"

The man cocked his head. "Actually, I think it is rather nice. Did Sora select it?"

"Clearly the two of you share the same deplorable taste," McKay said snidely. "This does not surprise me."

"Ha," the stranger shot back. "I did not hear you complaining about her taste when she dressed you."

"Simply the result of my utter lack of interest in current fashion trends," McKay said loftily. "Which is a clear sign of my genius. No one with an iota of intelligence would blindly follow the dictates of an industry that routinely starves its employees to death." Suddenly he held out his arms. "What do you think about this tux? John said it was fine, but he's paid to be nice to me." John blinked, unsure whether he should be flattered or offended. "Oh," McKay added, before the other man had a chance to answer. "This is John Sheppard, the caterer. John, this is Dr. Radek Zelenka. He's not completely stupid."

"He is upset because I have more patents," Zelenka said, taking John's outstretched hand. The little guy was stronger than he looked.

McKay crossed his arms. "That's just because you fast-tracked them somehow. I have six patents pending."

"Pending, pending," Zelenka said, throwing his hands in the air. "By the time they are not pending, I will have six patents more." He leaned in to John and said conspiratorially, "He antagonizes the patent clerks and they lose his paperwork."

John just barely managed not to smirk.

McKay flushed lightly and glowered at the floor, looking embarrassed and a little hurt. Feeling guilty all of a sudden, John quickly changed the subject. "Who's the Dragon Lady?"

McKay's flush deepened, though now he just looked annoyed. "Senator Elizabeth Weir," he said sourly.

"Chairwoman of the subcommittee for military budgetary allocations," Zelenka added. "Famous diplomat. Beautiful woman."

"Scary woman," McKay said under his breath. In a normal voice, he added, "She's early." Zelenka shrugged. McKay turned to John. "Are you ready?"

John glanced at the reception table. Most of the food was out, and the rest of the room was already set up. Drinks would be ready in just a few minutes. It was moments like these when words simply weren't enough to express how much he loved his crew. "Whenever you are," he answered casually.

"Great," McKay said, sounding relieved. "Radek, bring her in. John, find some alcohol. I've found US Senators are slightly more rational when drunk."

"I'm on it," John said. After the insanity that was a half hour in the presence of Rodney McKay, it was a relief to escape to the back rooms.

The prep kitchen was a whirlwind of activity. Jonas was heating the dishes he had prepared last night and putting the final touches on the last tray of reception hors d'oeuvers. Miko and Cameron were pouring champagne and arranging the delicate flutes on trays. Ronon, Teyla, and Lorne were setting up food trays. John noticed that Teyla and Ronon were both giving Lorne interested looks, but he knew them well enough to trust that they wouldn't make a move while they were working. If only Aiden and Laura would be so professional.

"ETA on the drinks?" John asked Miko.

"That tray's ready to go," Miko answered, gesturing with her chin while expertly filling another flute. She didn't spill a drop.

Teyla moved to take the tray, but John stopped her. McKay had made it clear that he wanted Elizabeth Weir to be happy. Alcohol wasn't the only pleasant distraction Atlantis Catering could provide. "Ronon, you take the first tray. There should be a woman out there. See if she wants anything harder. Teyla, you're on drinks as well--" John said that for Lorne and Cameron's benefit, as the usual team already knew that Teyla and Ronon always handled the drinks "--Lorne and Cameron, you're food and cleanup. There's plenty to eat already out there, so worry more about keeping up with the dirty dishes. Dinner starts in an hour. Teyla and Ronon will be serving Russian style. Lorne and Miko and Cameron and I will be paired up French style. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Lorne called out. "Do you even know my first name?"

John flushed hotly as Cameron and Jonas chuckled and even Ronon cracked a smile. "Any serious questions?" John asked through gritted teeth.

Miko rescued him. "What happens after dinner?"

John nodded to her in thanks. "Teyla and Ronon will keep circulating with drinks and desserts until the party shuts down or until McKay sends us home. Jonas and Miko, you'll clean up the kitchen and prep room. Cameron and Lorne--" John emphasized the latter name with a little more force than necessary "--will clean and break down the reception and dining rooms. By the time the party ends, everything should already be washed and packed up. The last few glasses and plates can go home dirty -- I'll take care of those tonight." He almost asked if there were more questions, but he caught Lorne's smirk out of the corner of his eye and quickly changed his words. "Make me proud, everyone."

Everyone immediately started moving, weaving past each other in the tight space to get back to their tasks. John felt another swell of pride. His team worked well together, even with the additions of Lorne and Cameron, and he knew right then that this night would go off without a hitch. Atlantis Catering was the best in the business and tonight they were going to prove it.

With that thought in the front of his mind, John straightened his jacket and patted his pocket. Looking sharp and with business cards close at hand, he started for the door. Time to earn his salary.

There were only a few more people in the reception room than when John had left to rally the troops, and all of them were dressed as if they were going to the opera. John felt like a shabby second cousin next to them, but the suit he was wearing was the nicest he owned and, besides, tuxedos emphasized his too-skinny frame. At least his suit was well-cut and the unrelieved black would help make it look more formal than it was. If he acted confident enough, no one would notice what he was wearing.

Hopefully if he told himself that enough times, he would eventually begin to believe it.

Forcing his mind off of his evening wear, John debated strategy. Interacting with the wealthy was always a tricky proposition and, technically speaking, John wasn't invited to this party. If he struck too soon, he ran the risk of gathering more attention than he wanted and getting turned into entertainment for the bored masses. Experience had taught John that the rich loved to poke fun at the lower tax brackets.

Deciding that it would be best to wait for a few more people to arrive, John glanced at the food table to see how it was fairing. Judging by how fast Dr. McKay was cramming meatballs into his mouth, John would say that Jonas's cooking was a success.

John grinned and headed over to fish for compliments. At the last second he hesitated: this wasn't a pre-event meeting any more and John wasn't sure how the head of a world-famous scientific laboratory would feel about interacting socially with his caterer, especially in the company of his peers. McKay might be annoyed or, worse, irritated by John's forwardness, and John couldn't afford to piss this man off.

McKay made the decision for him, coming up with a plate full of food and enthusing, "These meatballs are _fantastic_."

Despite himself, John found most of his tension easing away. McKay just looked so damn _happy_ about Jonas's meatballs. "Glad you like them," he said with a pleased smile. "You should try the marinated mozzarella sticks. They're our most popular hors d'oeuvers."

McKay made interested noises and went straight back to the table, where he grabbed a skewer topped with a piece of cheese and a cherry tomato and immediately popped it into his mouth. "Mm," he said, his eyes sinking shut as he moaned happily and slowly pulled the stick past his glistening lips.

John swallowed hard and wondered if McKay had any idea how pornographic that looked.

McKay's eyes opened and he promptly shoved a mini-quiche into his mouth. "God, this food is good," he said, speaking around a mouthful of half-masticated egg.

That sight wasn't pornographic in the slightest, so John was able to answer levelly, "Wait till dinner. Jonas makes a mean spinach lasagna."

McKay grinned happily and started on another plate of snacks. John smiled back and left him to finish demolishing the food table. It was time to work the room.

John hadn't been born with a lightning fast intelligence like Carson and Miko, he lacked the passionate enthusiasm of Aiden and Laura, and he couldn't hold a candle to Ronon and Teyla's work ethic, but he did have a gift with people. It took a certain skill to insinuate yourself into other people's conversations and John took pride in the fact that he managed to make it look easy. It was his one talent and, damn it, he was going to do it well.

The first step was to pick your target. Groups of four or five were best, as they were already large enough to preclude intimate conversation. Find the gap -- there were always at least two people who didn't want to stand too close -- and ease your way in with an apologetic smile. Downplay your intrusion by focusing on whoever was speaking. Then it was just a matter of showing interest and coming up with witty responses.

The key was not to push. This was a charity ball, pretty much the textbook definition of boring. Every conversation would at some point turn to the food. Until that happened, John kept a low profile, making clever remarks and laughing at bad jokes. When asked what he did for a living, he gave his best wry smile, said he was in the food service industry, and left the listeners come up with their own conclusions. No doubt they assumed he was the head of Kraft or McDonald's or Hershey.

When people did comment on the food, however, John slipped a card out of his pocket and passed it over with a smile. "Atlantis Catering," he said. "Best in the business." The women took the cards and tucked them into their dresses, shooting for 'flirting' but usually falling somewhere around 'ridiculous'. The men either put the cards in their pockets (meaning they would never call) or in their wallets (meaning they would pass them on to whoever planned their own events) and asked what was for dinner. Spinach lasagna wasn't causing quite the stir of excitement John had hoped for; next time he'd push for prime rib. He didn't think McKay would balk at the expense.

As he was returning from the kitchen with a fresh batch of cards and a quarter-filled flute of champagne (he had to play the part, but he didn't want to lose his edge), John saw two gorgeous women enter the room. They were tall, dark haired, blue-eyed, and obviously identical twins. The one on the left wore a simple black sheath dress that accentuated her flawless pale skin. The one on the right wore the same, except that her dress was made of leather. Both women headed straight for McKay, who promptly choked on a mozzarella stick.

John hurried over to help, just in time to see McKay turn red in the face and start blowing his nose furiously into a paper napkin. That probably meant some of the marinade had made it into McKay's sinuses. John winced. There was a lot of vinegar in that marinade.

A bit of back patting and nose blowing later, McKay had recovered enough to turn a venomous eye on the two women. "Vala, Aeryn[1], what the hell are you doing here?"

Vala, the one in leather, draped herself over McKay's arm, looking like sex personified. "We were invited," she said silkily.

Aeryn stood at McKay's other side with near-military posture. "Sora said you had some gentlemen who would need to be entertained."

"And you didn't question that at all?" McKay said incredulously. "Pegasus Labs events host _heads of state_. Last month Zelenka made me kowtow to the President of the United States. Even if he is a contemptible bigot with the IQ of a turnip, I doubt he's about to pick up prostitutes at a charity ball."

"I fucked the Chinese prime minister last week," Vala purred.

McKay groaned. "China doesn't have a prime minister, you feeble-minded nymphet. When did Sora hire you?"

Vala ran a finger along McKay's jaw, apparently not at all offended by McKay's insult. John figured hookers probably had to have thick skins. When it became clear Vala wasn't planning on answering McKay's question, Aeryn said, "Yesterday."

"Sora was fired Thursday," McKay snapped, slapping Vala's hand away.

Aeryn and Vala exchanged a glance. Vala shrugged and blew a soft puff of air into Rodney's ear. "We've already been paid," Aeryn said.

McKay looked half a second away from a coronary. John couldn't blame him, though he had to admire Sora's nerve. It took balls to hire a couple of whores for your ex-boss's charity ball. Fleetingly, John wondered which charity, exactly, this ball was supporting. Then he wondered why, exactly, Dr. Rodney McKay was on such familiar terms with a pair of prostitutes.

Figuring neither answer was going to help Atlantis's bottom line, John took a step back. "I'll just leave you to...do whatever it is you need to do."

"No!" McKay yelped, reaching out to grab John's wrist. "Vala, Aeryn, go mingle or something. Don't do anything illegal. Vala, don't flash anyone."

Aeryn nodded sharply and wandered in the direction of the nearest four-star general. Vala draped herself a little more firmly on McKay's shoulder. "Are you sure?" she asked with a pout.

"Yes," McKay said instantly. "I already have a date." He jerked John closer. "See?"

Vala glared at John. John merely raised his eyebrows back mildly and tried to act like he knew what was going on.

"Fine," Vala spat. "But when you finally crack, McKay, I'm charging you double."

She stalked off in Zelenka's direction. Zelenka saw her coming, however, and abandoned his conversation with Weir to make a mad rush for the door. Vala smoothly shifted direction and ended up at Weir's side, lifting two flutes of champagne from Ronon's tray with a sultry smile. All traces of her earlier anger gone, Vala proceeded to openly flirt with the Senator. Weir didn't appear to be entirely immune to Vala's advances and John wondered if maybe he should have assigned Teyla to Weir after all.

Next to him, McKay sighed. "She's psychopathic, you know."

"She doesn't seem to like you much," John said, but then reconsidered. "Or maybe she likes you too much."

"It's a competition," McKay said with a shrug. "I slept with Aeryn once." John choked on his champagne. McKay didn't seem to notice. "Vala's been trying to nail me ever since."

"Uh," John said, wondering what the hell you said to someone who had just openly admitted to sleeping with a prostitute. Nothing was coming to mind, so he took the coward's way out. Draining his champagne glass, he gestured with it and headed for the kitchen.

Halfway there, he heard a thin man with long, stringy hair say in a snotty tone, "Oh, look, the hookers have arrived." A quick glance at McKay's horrified expression confirmed that he'd heard.

John closed his eyes and said a little prayer for patience. The ball hadn't even started yet and already this event was turning into a nightmare. At this rate, Atlantis Catering would be out of a job by dint of the fact that McKay would never host a party again.

Plastering on his best polite smile, John sidled up to the obnoxious man. "You know, there's an open bar tonight," he said casually.

The long haired man looked interested. "I didn't think that started till after dinner."

"For you, we'll make an exception," John said. The man's eyes narrowed, and John quickly covered with, "We couldn't fit the bar in here, but the waiters will be happy to get you anything you want." Out of the man's line of sight, John gestured for Teyla, who began making her way over. A second later, the long haired man was placing an order and John let out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

"Son of a _bitch_."

_Crap._ John spun around to see McKay glaring at a pair of new arrivals. The shorter of the two was wearing a neat tux and his entire demeanor screamed "US Senator". The other man was tall, slightly overweight, and had disastrous hair. He was also dressed in Armani and was inspecting the room with a supercilious air that for some reason made John think of McKay. Judging from the look of scathing contempt McKay was giving the supercilious man in return, John guessed the new arrival was the competition.

And, judging from the way McKay was storming forward towards the competition, the room was soon to be treated to one hell of a scene. John sighed, gestured for Ronon and Teyla to bring more champagne, and followed McKay. Hopefully he'd be able to control the damage. Somehow.

"What the hell are you doing here, Cowen?" McKay snapped when he reached the supercilious man.

Cowen offered up a slick, ingratiating smile and John instantly decided that he didn't like him. He didn't want to inadvertently make things worse, however, so he hung back a few steps and tried to look unobtrusive. "I was invited," Cowen said smugly. For a horrified moment, John thought Sora was responsible for this as well -- in which case she obviously hadn't been fired soon enough -- until Cowen added, "As Senator Kinsey's guest."

John didn't follow politics generally, but even he knew that Kinsey was one of the loudest advocates for a ban on gay marriage. Senator Kinsey smiled arrogantly; John wanted to punch him.

Fortunately for everyone involved, Aeryn and Vala chose that moment to make an appearance. Vala draped herself over Cowen in what John was starting to suspect was her signature move, while Aeryn politely introduced herself to Kinsey. John took advantage of the distraction to drag McKay away.

Once they were safely out of hearing range, John asked softly, "You okay?"

"No," McKay snapped. "No offense, because your food really is quite good, far better than the over-spiced slop served last time, but I'd trade in my next patent if everyone suddenly got food poisoning and had to go home."

John patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry," he said. "Not going to happen. But I might be able to get dinner out a few minutes early. How does that sound? I'll even make sure Cowen and that asshole Kinsey are seated in the very back of the room."

McKay turned to him with eyes as blue as a summer sky. "You do that, and I'll love you forever."

Held captive by those brilliant eyes, John swallowed hard and nodded. McKay smiled and turned back to the food table.

John fled for the kitchen.

ooo

Dinner went surprisingly smoothly, probably because McKay and Cowen were on opposite sides of the room. It helped that Vala and Aeryn made sure Cowen and Kinsey didn't wander; John was grateful for their efforts as he was too busy serving to run interference.

In deference to McKay (and, if he were being honest with himself, because he wasn't completely sure of his own restraint around Kinsey), John served the four tables in McKay's corner of the room. He made a production of the whole affair, offering up a healthy portion of charm with each dish. Cameron Mitchell held John's tray and looked pretty.

In the cluster of tables next to them, Lorne was the one holding the tray while Miko served. Judging from Miko's smile, she was hearing a lot of compliments on her raspberry vinaigrette and bruschetta. Lorne managed to give off the impression that he wasn't bored out of his mind with his current task, which was a rare talent. John made a mental note to find out Lorne's first name so he could offer him a more permanent position.

Teyla and Ronon handled the back of the room, each of them holding a massive tray with one hand and serving with the other. It took an enormous amount of coordination (not to mention strength) to serve Russian style, but his two siblings had the athleticism and grace to pull it off. John was pleased to see that Teyla had taken both Cowen's table and the table with the obnoxious long haired man. Ronon was an excellent waiter, but no one was better than Teyla at being polite in the face of appalling behavior.

Dinner consisted of spinach lasagna, a salad of mixed spring greens with a choice of either Miko's vinaigrette or a store-bought ranch (to the disgust of both Jonas and Miko, neither chef had been able to come up with a recipe more popular than Hidden Valley), and a variety of breads. As usual, the bruschetta and garlic bread were popular at the beginning of the meal, but soon people switched over to Jonas's dinner rolls and were immediately hooked. The dense, soft-crusted rolls were Jonas's pride and joy and had already won several regional baking awards. John wasn't big on the idea of signature foods, but if he ever changed his mind Jonas's rolls would be a good choice.

Determined to ensure a successful evening, John had asked Jonas to make twice the amount of food Sora had ordered and it looked like that gamble was paying off. Though there was going to be enough leftover lasagna to feed the Sheppard clan for a week, the guests made serious inroads in the backup bruschetta and rolls. The look on McKay's face when he asked for and received a third basket of rolls was easily worth the cost of the additional food, not to mention the fact that, armed with this information, John would be able to make sure future Pegasus orders were closer to what people actually ate.

While the Alantis crew was serving dessert (Jonas's decadent triple layer chocolate torte cake), Zelenka moved from his seat next to McKay to stand at a small podium at the front of the room. "Hello," he said, and the murmur of conversation in the room quickly died down. "Thank you all for joining us for the fifth annual Pegasus Labs Charity Ball. I am Dr. Radek Zelenka. Most of you already know me from the last time Dr. McKay decided that dessert was more important than giving a speech."

John couldn't help but glance at McKay as the audience chuckled. McKay merely lifted his chin a little higher and swiped Zelenka's cake. John grinned.

Zelenka waited for the laughter to die down before he continued his speech in a more serious tone. "As I am sure you are all aware, domestic violence is an ongoing problem in America and, indeed, in the world at large. The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence is a non-profit organization committed to ending violence in our homes." He went on to describe the efforts of the NCADV and John kept a close eye on Teyla and Ronon as they cleared tables. Neither one appeared distressed by what they were hearing, but they were both very good at hiding their emotions. It was telling that they didn't protest when John sent them back to wash dishes while he and Lorne took over drinks.

Fortunately Zelenka had mastered the most important aspect of speech making: keeping it short. The guests barely had time to finish their coffee and cake before Zelenka announced that it was time for dancing. John took advantage of the ensuing bustle to hurry back to the kitchen.

With their usual efficiency, Teyla and Ronon had managed to work their way through all of the dishes and were currently cleaning the silverware. "Hey," John said softly. "How're you doing?"

Teyla smiled and it was only because John had grown up with her that he saw the tension at the corners of her mouth. "We are fine, John," she said. After checking to make sure that Lorne and Cameron were out of earshot, she added softly, "Better now. It was just a surprise."

"I'm sorry about that," John said. "I should have asked ahead of time what the charity was."

By way of response, Teyla grasped John's biceps and lightly touched her forehead to his. It was something she had started soon after joining the Sheppard household, during that time when she was still flinching away from physical contact. John had figured it was her compromise on the whole issue of hugging. By holding the other person's arms down and just barely touching their foreheads, she could show affection without having to cope with a whole body pressed against hers. The gesture had taken a while to get used to, but now it was as much a part of Teyla as her serene smile and her animal grace. "We are fine," she repeated. "And we still have a job to do. Is dinner over?"

John smiled at her. "I love you, sis." He patted Ronon on the shoulder. "You too, giant mountain man."

"We love you as well," Teyla said with an answering smile. Ronon grunted and gave John what he no doubt considered a love tap. Pride was the only thing that kept John from stumbling forward under the blow. "We'll get the drinks ready," Teyla added.

John nodded. "I'll have Jonas start the dessert trays."

Five minutes later, Miko was setting up the bar, Ronon was wandering through the crowd with a tray of half-filled champagne flutes, and Teyla was proving very popular with her tray of petits fours and mini fruit tarts. John spared a minute to make sure they were doing okay before he started his next round of mingling.

This time, John tried not to get caught in McKay's orbit. It would do Atlantis Catering no good to spend all of his precious networking time on one person, even someone as enthusiastic about food as Dr. Rodney McKay. Especially not now, as the dozens of dinner guests were joined by hundreds of people who had been invited just to the ball. There were far more people here than Sora had predicted, and after a half an hour of concentrated small talk John headed back to the kitchen to send in reinforcements. Jonas and Cameron had already gone home, but Lorne was still packing dishes and was willing to put in a couple more hours. John just hoped their supply of champagne held out.

On his way back to the ballroom, John saw there was a line of people at the NCADV table, all of them with checkbooks at the ready. As he watched, a nearby knot of people dissolved and joined the line, leaving behind a smug looking McKay. McKay grinned at John before moving onto the next cluster of potential donors.

The scientist's triumphant grin caused a sharp dart of warmth in John's chest, a sensation that John found that he didn't want to examine too closely. At any rate, he didn't have time for introspection now, not while he was surrounded by prospective clients.

Keeping that thought firmly at the front of his mind, John skirted the dance floor and eyed the crowd on the other side. Most of these folks hadn't been at dinner and probably weren't as wealthy as those who had, so it was going to be harder to pitch Atlantis's services. However, it wasn't as if Atlantis was doing well enough that it could afford to be too picky about its paying clients. A monthly Pegasus Labs gig wasn't going to be enough to pay the bills.

A handful of distributed business cards later, John was feeling a little more accomplished and he stepped back from his latest conversation to take a break. Immediately a tall, well built young man caught his eye. John surreptitiously checked the guy out. Black hair, green eyes, tan skin, beautiful mouth. John wondered if he was gay.

Gay or straight, the man obviously felt out of his element. Instead of mingling with the other guests, he was standing with his back pressed against the nearest wall and he kept scanning the crowd as if he was looking for someone. Intrigued, John sidled over. "Lost your date?" he asked with an easy smile.

The man started. Up close, he was younger than John had first guessed, probably no more than twenty. He kept shifting his shoulders, as if his suit was too tight. "Um, sort of," the boy said, still scanning the crowd. "Have you seen Lex Luthor anywhere?"

John waited for a description, but none seemed to be forthcoming. "What does he look like?"

The boy stared at him, as if it was inconceivable that there was someone in the world who might not know who this Luthor person was. "He's kinda tall, sort of thin. Bald."

"Oh, _that_ guy," John said. John had wondered about him -- he seemed too young to be bald naturally, but too old to have done it for kicks. Pointing towards the string quintet that was providing the music, John said, "He's over there, near the stage."

The boy looked over and immediately lit up. "Thanks," he said, already moving towards Lex. [2]

"You're welcome," John said, trying not to be offended by how quickly the boy had run off.

After some consideration, however, John decided that he had done a good deed. Since it was in his own best interests for everyone to remember this night as a good one (not to mention the fact that he'd run out of business cards and wasn't really looking forward to serving drinks), John decided to help out a few other wallflowers. Every time he spotted someone standing alone, he'd strike up a conversation with him or her, drop a few hints about the wonder that was Atlantis Catering, and then carefully deposit his new acquaintance with a friendly looking group. Before too long, he had a handle on most of the more interesting folks in the room, and it was possible to hook up people with similar interests.

By the time McKay made it over to John's side of the dance floor, John was feeling pretty good about his efforts and decided he had earned a break. Making his way over to the scientist, he asked, "How's it going?"

McKay sighed. "Despite the fact that this is taking a ridiculous amount of time and effort that could have been spent far more efficiently, we're making some progress with the donations."

"That's good then," John said brightly.

"I'd much rather donate a million and go home," McKay said wearily. "My feet hurt. Sora's last revenge apparently included flashy shoes with woefully insufficient arch support."

John patted him on the shoulder. "Just a couple more hours," he said encouragingly.

McKay groaned dramatically.

John hid a grin. "Would it help if I found you a cup of coffee?"

"_Yes_," McKay said, seizing John's arm. "I would be eternally grateful."

Gently, John disengaged himself from McKay's surprisingly firm grip. "I'll be right back," he promised.

"Thank you," McKay said, before turning to the nearest group with a resignation written all over his expressive face.

John just nodded and hurried toward the kitchen. Halfway there, he glanced back to see that McKay was speaking animatedly, rapid gestures accompanying his speech. Even without being able to hear the words, John could see the passion in McKay's face, and McKay's audience was listening raptly.

Not watching where he was going, John stumbled into someone. "Oh, sorry," he said, his hands going out automatically to steady the leather clad woman he'd tripped over. "Wasn't watching where I was going."

"Clearly," Vala answered, but her voice was amused. "It appears someone else had your attention," she added. "At least he is someone worth staring at."

John flushed hotly. "I wasn't staring."

"Of course not," she said mockingly.

John was about to protest further, but Vala turned away before he had the chance. He spent a moment glaring at her back before moving on, muttering furiously to himself. What did she know, anyway? She was just a (probably highly paid) hooker. The fact that she was obsessed with McKay didn't meant that everyone else was.

"I'm not obsessed with Rodney McKay," John growled under his breath as he stormed into the kitchen and started looking for coffee mugs. "He's rude and arrogant and completely lacking in self restraint. Not only am I not obsessed with him, I don't even like him."

But even John had to admit that that last statement was a lie.

By the time the coffee was ready, John had gotten over the worst of his embarrassment. It wasn't as if he'd been caught staring by McKay, after all. Not that he had been staring. Looking, that's what he'd been doing. Glancing. Nothing wrong with glancing.

Picking up the oversized mug that he'd found in the back of one of the cabinets, John filled it with coffee, black, the way McKay had drunk it at dinner. Carrying it carefully by the handle, he started toward the door. Time to face the crowds again.

When John had first started waiting for Jack's clubs, he had made the rookie mistake of watching the glasses to make sure the liquid inside didn't slosh over the sides. He spilled a lot of drinks because of it, until Jack had pulled him over and explained that the key to carrying drinks was to focus on a solid, level surface. When you focused on the constantly changing surface of the drinks themselves, it threw off your sense of balance and it made your movements jerky. When you focused on an immovable surface, like a floor or wall, your body moved smoothly.

After eight years, John no longer had to consciously think about finding a focal point. He moved through the crowds gracefully and didn't spill a drop before delivering the mug into McKay's grateful hands. Once the coffee was delivered, he glanced around and realized that the room seemed a little emptier than it had been before. "Are people leaving?"

McKay gulped down half the mug before answering. "Yes, finally. Thank God. I was starting to fear that, contrary to all physical laws, this time-sucking charade would never end."

"Well, time does slow when you approach a black hole," John said. McKay stared at him, so he quickly covered with: "Not that I'm saying this event was a black hole or anything, I was just -- uh, never mind." McKay was still staring, a strange expression on his face. John smothered a wince. "I'm sorry?"

McKay cocked his head. "That was -- that was actually very clever."

John felt a ridiculous rush of pleasure at the compliment. "Thank you."

"Hm," McKay said, still staring at John as if he were about to sprout antenna. Suddenly he shook his head, cleared his throat, and finished his coffee. "You wouldn't be able to get this mob out of here sooner, would you?" he asked hopefully.

John grinned. "I'll see what I can do."

The first step was to shut down the bar (currently manned by Teyla, as Miko had gone home at midnight) and to send Ronon and Lorne back to the kitchen. The musical quintet was disbanded next and, seeing the musicians' weary faces as they packed away their instruments, John suggested they get a cup of coffee in the kitchen before they left. Judging from the grateful looks he got in return, he'd won a few points.

Lacking music, food, and alcohol, John trusted the ballroom would quickly clear out. He didn't stick around to see for himself, however, because there was still a lot of cleanup to do and he couldn't help but feel guilty about how much time he'd spent with McKay when he really should have been helping out in the back. Somehow developing a good working relationship with a potential long-term employer had morphed into the back-and-forth banter that John usually found only in really good friendships. It had been a long time since John had clicked with someone the way he had clicked with Rodney McKay and he knew that he had shamelessly indulged himself rather than keep on top of his own duties for the night.

Fortunately, he had a fantastic group of co-workers who had taken up his slack. All of the gear from the reception and dinner had already been taken down and packed in the van, along with the dishes and cutlery that Jonas and Cameron had cleaned before they left. The only tasks that remained, in fact, were to wash the glasses from the ball (the desserts had been served on paper doilies) and to load them and the leftover food into the van to take back to Atlantis Catering Co's main offices (otherwise known as the Sheppard family home). "I can finish up here," John said as Teyla and Ronon loaded several trays of glasses into the dishwasher and Lorne started stacking large dishes of leftover food near the service exit. "You guys did a great job tonight. Go home and get some sleep."

Lorne and Ronon immediately headed for the door, but Teyla hung back. "Are you sure?" she asked, her tired voice betraying her exhaustion.

"Yeah," John said. He didn't feel tired at all -- in fact, his entire body was humming with barely-contained excitement. Despite the near-crises, this had been one of the most exciting nights of his life. "I'm too wired to sleep. Might as well take advantage of the energy while I've got it. You guys go on, though. Show Lorne a good time."

Teyla's lips curved into a mischievous smile. "He _is_ attractive."

"That he is," John had to admit. "Oh, hey, while you're at it, can you find out his first name? I want to offer him a job."

Teyla's smile was downright mocking now. "Of course," she said dryly.

John had to admit that he probably deserved that, so he simply leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. "Good night, sis."

"Good night, John."

Alone in the kitchen, John made quick work of stacking the glassware into the industrial dishwasher's trays. The wash cycle took a while, however, so he used the free time to begin carrying the massive amounts of leftover food to the van. Nobody was buying groceries this week, that was for sure.

"You're all alone," a voice said as he came inside for a second load. John jumped at the sound and nearly dropped his tray of meatballs. Blunt hands caught the tray just in time. "Don't drop those," McKay said. "They're the best part of the evening."

"Thanks," John said, his heart beating double-time. McKay just smiled and stared at the meatballs longingly. John glanced down at the gelatinous mess of meat and near-solid gravy. "Would you like to have these?" he asked dubiously.

McKay's face lit up like a kid in a candy store. "Could I?"

"You paid for them," John said with a shrug and passed the tray over.

McKay took the meatballs back with a reverent expression on his face. Then his eyes turned crafty. "By that logic, I've paid for the dinner rolls as well."

John couldn't help it, he laughed. "Yep, and the cake, too. Just let me know what you want and I'll pack it up for you."

"The rolls," McKay said instantly. "And the cake. Oo, and the tarts. And maybe some of the bruschetta."

John shook his head, but started pulling trays from the stack next to the door. "I doubt even you will be able to eat all of this," he said, chuckling.

"I just intend to get the best value for my hard earned money," McKay said loftily. "Which reminds me." He pulled out a checkbook.

"You don't need to do that," John protested. "We can send you the bill."

McKay just waved away his protests and started writing. "If you send an invoice it'll be shunted directly accounting and I'll never get to see it. This way I can pay you for actual services rendered." He ripped off the completed check and handed it over.

John's eyes widened at the amount. It was nearly double the (admittedly far too low) price he had quoted Sora. "I can't take this."

"Don't be stupid," McKay said. "Not only did you make way more food than Sora ordered -- and can I just say how nice it was not to run out of bread for once -- you also helped with both Cowen and Vala _and_ you somehow managed to shut Kavanagh up. You earned it."

"Oh. Well." John glanced back at the check. They really _could_ use the money, especially if Lorne agreed to sign on. And it wasn't as if Pegasus Labs was hurting for funds. "Okay," he said, folding the check and slipping it in the suit jacket's inside pocket. Then he ran his fingers inside the pocket, just to make sure the check made it in safely. He thought about checking again with his other hand, but decided that might make him look a little desperate, so he forced his hands to his pants pockets.

At which point he remembered that he still had food to pack for McKay, so he ripped his hands out of his pants and started dumping rolls into a plastic bag. After a few moments, McKay pulled out another bag and began filling it with meatballs. "I was watching you tonight," McKay said in a suspiciously casual voice.

John blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yes. You're very good with people."

"Thanks."

They packed more food in silence. "Lex Luthor said you were very nice to his friend Clark."

Clark must be the name of Mr. Tall, Beautiful, and Barely Legal. John definitely remembered him. "I didn't do anything," John said honestly.

"Still, you made a good impression. And not just with Luthor. Several people took the time to tell me how charming you are. Even Weir noticed." McKay closed his bag of bruschetta and turned to lean against the counter. "John, I'd like to offer you a job."

John dropped his still-open bag of cake. "What?"

"I want to hire you. As a host." McKay's chin lifted slightly. "While I am without a doubt the most brilliant man you will ever meet, I've found that the average attendee of our events does not fully appreciate genius. Since our continued access to classified government projects depends on how happy people are at these parties -- which is a sad commentary on the state of both the US military and politics, I might add -- we need someone who can pander to their desires. Someone who can make them happy and comfortable and, ideally, willing to sign over any and all interesting research contracts they might have available. We need someone like you."

John stared. "I--I--I don't know what to say."

"I'll pay you an extra thousand per event," McKay said instantly. "And another thousand as a tip for any additional work your staff has to take on because of this new arrangement."

Two thousand dollars. _Two thousand dollars_. And all John would have to do was do exactly what he had done tonight. John had _enjoyed_ what he'd done tonight. To be paid to continue to do it seemed too good to be true.

However, there was something he had to clear up first. Sora had made some pretty unreasonable demands before switching from the Hilton to Atlantis, and there was no way they could continue to cater Pegasus events at the same rate as they had planned to invoice for this one. The extra two grand wouldn't be enough if they kept losing five bucks a plate. "I underbid the contract," John blurted, hoping he wasn't throwing away a huge opportunity.

McKay rolled his eyes. "Is this supposed to be a surprise to me? Even if I hadn't been a genius, I'd have known you weren't charging enough. No wonder we didn't get enough bread at the Hilton."

"So next time--"

"Yes, yes, yes," McKay said, waving away John's biggest worry like it meant nothing. "Next time we'll pay you a fair price for your services. I don't know why you'd doubt me, since I paid you a fair price for your services _this_ time."

John blushed hotly at the truth of the statement. God, what must McKay think of him? "I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"I'll even let you pass out your business cards," McKay interrupted.

"Really?" John asked. This was starting to feel like a very surreal dream. Or maybe like the bargaining scene from Pretty Woman. Not that John had watched Pretty Woman. Well, okay, so he had watched it, but only because Laura had made him.

McKay glanced away, looking annoyed. "Apparently some people found it cute," he muttered, spitting out the last word like it was a curse.

John wasn't particularly happy about being referred to as cute, but right now the promise of an extra two thousand dollars on a regular basis more than compensated for any of the potential downsides, so he simply said, "I'm in."

"Really?" McKay asked, a hopeful smile touching the corners of his crooked mouth.

John flushed again, this time from pleasure. "Really."

"You'd have to work under me," McKay warned.

"I don't think that'll be a problem," John answered with grin. "I'd like to work under you."

At that, McKay's own smile disappeared as if it had been cut off. John frowned. "What?"

McKay shook his head and picked up a couple of the food bags. "It's late. I should let you get back to work."

John didn't know what he'd done wrong, but he did know he didn't want McKay to leave like that. Casting about for a point of conversation, his eye landed on an unwashed silver, black, and teal coffee cup, probably left over from the musicians. "Wait," he said quickly. "What about the tablecloths and plate Sora sent?"

"Throw it away," McKay said, his voice carrying none of the animation that had made him so interesting earlier in the evening. "It's an eyesore."

"But it really isn't that bad," John protested. "I mean, it's a shock at first, but it grows on you."

McKay shrugged and picked up a couple of food-filled plastic bags in each hand. "Keep it, then."

Before John could recover from the fact that he had just been gifted with at least ten thousand dollars worth of plate, McKay turned to leave. At the door of the kitchen, however, he stopped. "You don't have to charm me, John," he said quietly. "I'd much rather you just tell me the truth."

And before John could recovered from _that_, Rodney McKay was gone.

ooo

The next morning, John gave himself half an hour to celebrate just how awesome the previous night had gone. Not only had they done a fantastic job with the ball's catering, but John himself had single-handedly managed to wrangle an extra two grand per gig. He was the man, if he did say so himself.

Then he allowed himself five minutes to wonder what the hell was up with Dr. McKay. What had John said to upset him so much? It seemed like McKay had been angry about the (in retrospect) unfortunate pun about working under him. Was that really it? It seemed kind of petty, but maybe he had offended McKay's heterosexual worldview or something. More importantly, whatever the reason for McKay's anger, was he going to hold a grudge? That thought disturbed John more than he would care to admit, and he allowed himself another few minutes to come up with ways to placate McKay, just in case the scientist was still angry.

After that, John had planned on taking some time to decide where he was going to store his recently acquired, barely used, complete table service for a hundred and twenty five (with tablecloths!), but before he got that far, he remembered Carson. Muttering curses, he rolled out of bed and hit the shower.

As he drove to Carson's house, John tried to reassure himself with the fact that if something was seriously wrong with his brother, Laura would have told him. Except that Laura and Aiden had had their audition yesterday, and there was a distinct possibility that even if Carson was in serious trouble, he would have tried to deal with it himself rather than distract his favorite sister on her big day. Carson probably thought he was being unselfish by keeping his trouble to himself, when the exact opposite was true. They were family, damn it. You didn't keep your family in the dark.

Carson wasn't home. Nor was he at his office. By the time John had verified that Carson's church (Carson and Teyla had bucked the Sheppard family tradition of non-religious affiliation and started going to church as teenagers, albeit of different denominations) was also distinctly free of Sheppard family members, John was beginning to panic and, as he jogged down the cathedral steps, he called Laura.

She didn't pick up.

John growled lightly and called her again. On the fifth ring a groggy, grumpy voice said, "If someone isn't dead, I'm killing you."

She could do it too, and probably make it look like an accident, but John was too worried to care. "When was the last time you heard from Carson?"

"Friday," Laura said, and there was a thump as if she had fallen out of bed. When she spoke again, she sounded anxious and alert. "Why? What happened?"

"He was acting really strange when I talked to him Friday afternoon," John said. "And now I can't find him anywhere, not at home or the office or even at his church."

Now he could hear the bed squeaking and clothes rustling. "Where are you?"

"The church."

"Great. Stay put, I'll be right there." She hung up.

John turned off his own phone and sank down on the hood of his car. Laura might be half a decade younger than him and had certainly sounded hungover as all hell, but the thought of her coming to help eased some of his anxiety. By the time she pulled up in her cherry red Corvette, John had his emotions under control and was able to tell her exactly what Carson had said on Friday.

Laura frowned. "That doesn't sound like him."

"I know." John rubbed his hands roughly over his face. "I was hoping he'd talked to you about it."

"No, he didn't." Laura sounded exactly the way John had when Aiden had broken his arm while blowing up the potting shed: worried and very, very pissed.

"You can yell at him when we find him," John said. "Any ideas?"

"Probably a park," Laura said with a sigh. "He likes to watch the dogs."

"Great," John said, feeling better now that there was at least the possibility of forward momentum in the search. "Which ones?"

"Orion or Daeldalus," she said after a moment of consideration. "Daeldalus has the biggest dog park, but Orion's quiet."

"I'll take Orion," John said, primarily because he figured that Carson would be at the one with the most dogs and he wanted Laura to be the one to find their wayward brother. Aside from the closeness of Laura and Carson's relationship, the fact was that no one who valued his life would lie to Laura. Carson's dishonesty had been bad enough over the phone. John didn't think he could take it if Carson lied to his face.

Before Laura could peel out of the parking lot with her usual disregard of all traffic laws, John remembered. "Wait, how did your audition go?"

Laura smiled wanly. "We got the job."

John swallowed hard and wished he could hug her, but he and Laura had never had that kind of relationship. "Congratulations," he said instead.

Laura nodded sharply and popped the car into gear. By the time John got to his car, she was out of sight.

Of course, John was the one to find Carson. Of course he was. Damn it. When he called Laura to let her know, she just said, "I should have known," and promised to be there in twenty minutes.

For one shameful, cowardly moment, John considered waiting for her. It would be so easy to just find a park bench and sit down until Laura arrived, and really, it wasn't as if Carson would know the difference.

But John was the head of this family, and it was beneath him to hide from his brother, especially this brother, his first sibling. He'd helped raise Carson, and John wasn't about to throw that connection away now, no matter how much Carson's behavior was scaring him. So, burying his hands deep in his pockets, John walked over to Carson's bench.

"Hey," he said, once he was close.

Carson didn't turn around. "Hi."

After a hesitation, John joined Carson on the bench. Together they watched the dogs playing in the tiny dog park, just a few smaller breeds and one old greyhound who was stoically enduring the attentions of a perky terrier. "Laura's on her way," John finally said.

Carson winced.

"Hey," John said defensively. "It's your own fault. You were the one who disappeared on us."

"I know," Carson said. "And I'm sorry. I just needed time to work some things out."

John leaned back and tried to look like his heart wasn't thumping away in his throat. "Yeah? Like what?"

There was a long silence before Carson answered. "I met my biological father yesterday."

John stared at his brother, stunned. "Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be without a paternity test," Carson said, his eyes still locked on the romping canines. "Which he's offered to take."

"How did he find you? Better yet, why didn't he get you when your mom died? Why now?"

"He says he didn't know at the time, that he didn't find out until a few years ago and that he's been looking for me ever since." Carson took a deep breath and added, "John, I'm Scottish."

John blinked. "Uh, okay."

"No, really. I was born in Scotland. I wasn't even a US citizen until the adoption."

John let out a long, low whistle. "Wow."

Carson buried his head in his hands. "Exactly. And my father, he's apparently a really important guy in Scotland. A geneticist. He's wealthy."

"Well, that's cool," John said tentatively. "Right?"

"He wants to put me in his will."

"Oh. Okay." John sat back and wondered what he could possibly say at this point. Repeating 'that's cool' probably wouldn't cut it. "So are you going to do the paternity test?"

"Of course. If he's not my father then none of this matters, right? But if he is--" Carson sighed. "What should I do, John? What does one do in this position?"

John had six siblings, every one of them adopted. An outside observer might think that that gave John some kind of insight into the mind of an adopted child, but the only insight John ever got from the situation was the fact that he would never truly understand what it meant to lose your parents and then be given to someone else's. That was a bridge between John and his siblings that John would never be able to cross, no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he loved his family.

Fortunately, Carson didn't wait for an answer before speaking again. "I want you to meet him."

John gulped, but before he had a chance to reply a screech of tires announced Laura's arrival. They both looked back to see the blonde striding over with murder in her eyes and John heard Carson make a small sound suspiciously close to a whimper. John didn't blame him.

Laura stopped in front of them and glared at Carson. "I hate you."

Then she reached down and pulled Carson up into a tight embrace and Carson buried his head in Laura's neck and held her with all of his strength.

John smiled at them sadly and walked away, giving them time to be alone.

In the safety of his car, John pulled out his phone and called Teyla. She picked up on the second ring. "Hello, John."

"Laura and Aiden got the job," he blurted out, and then pressed his lips shut before he could say any more. Carson's incredible news felt like a living being pushing against the back of John's teeth, demanding release, but it was Carson's news to give or to keep to himself. As it was, Aiden was going to kill him for taking away his moment of triumph.

"I know," Teyla said. "Aiden called us last night."

Then again, maybe not. John let out a silent sigh of relief, and moved on to the reason for his call. "So, did you have a chance to find out Lorne's first name?"

Teyla chuckled. "Looking for details?" she asked archly.

John flushed. "No! No, actually, I'd rather avoid them if that's all right with you. It's just that we're already short staffed and it's just going to get worse now that Laura and Aiden won't be available. We need Lorne."

"Evan."

John frowned. "What?"

"His name is Evan," Teyla said. "But he prefers to be called by his last name."

John straightened in outrage. "Why that little punk."

Teyla chuckled again. "He said you deserved it. That you played him."

John slumped back guiltily. "That might be true."

"Oh, John." Teyla sighed and in his mind, John could see her shaking her head at him. "You can't keep doing this," she said after a moment. "It's making you miserable."

If anyone else had had the temerity to tell him how he felt, John would have hung up on him or her. Because it was Teyla, however, he closed his eyes and said, "I know." He took a deep shuddering breath and added, "Maybe I deserve to be miserable."

"No," Teyla said instantly. "You don't."

"Alex seemed to think so," John whispered.

"Alex was a fucking bastard," Teyla snapped back.

Despite the stinging in his eyes, John felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Teyla never swore, not unless she was talking about Alex. It felt good to have all of that righteous indignation on his side. "You know I love you, right, sis?"

"I know." Teyla said, anger gone, her voice full of affection.

John hastily wiped his eyes. What this conversation needed was a little levity. "And you know you're my favorite sister."

"I thought Miko was your favorite," Teyla said, sounding amused.

Warmth welled up in John's chest, as slow and sweet as honey. "You're both my favorite."

There was a long, comfortable silence and John thought once again how lucky he was to have these incredible people in his life. Teyla, with her quiet strength; Carson with his easy affection; Miko with her brilliant mind; Laura with her fierce loyalty; Aiden with his unbridled enthusiasm; and, of course, Ronon, who watched over them all. Every one of them brilliant in his or her own way, every one of them remarkable. While John could never dream of matching their potential, it was worth a lot just to be a part of this extraordinary family. John was a Sheppard. Whatever else he did in his life, he would always be a Sheppard. John hugged that thought close to him, like a warm blanket on a cold night.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

Teyla hesitated, and John's wandering thoughts abruptly focused on his sister. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Teyla said, quickly reassuring him. "In fact, it's just the opposite. Ronon and I have something to tell you, but it's not something that can be said over the phone. We had intended to wait till Monday, but--"

"I'll be right over," John said. "Give me half an hour."

John glanced back to see Carson and Laura still holding each other. Deciding that they would be okay, he slid into the car, shoved his keys into the ignition, and turned the engine over, his mind already racing ahead to wonder what big news was coming next.

Oh God. What if Teyla was pregnant? Big news that could only be shared in person? Big news that included both her and Ronon. Oh, god. It sounded like she was pregnant.

John slammed his foot down on the accelerator and tore out of the parking lot.

ooo

John considered himself a pretty laid-back, go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Right now, however, he was pretty sure he was developing an ulcer.

"A loan," he repeated numbly, staring at the professional-looking proposal that Teyla had just handed to him. "You need me to co-sign your business loan."

"Ronon and I have no credit," Teyla explained, as if John wasn't already perfectly aware of that fact. "We'd hoped our savings would be enough, but a business such as this requires a significant initial capital investment and we can't wait much longer."

"No one wants old bodyguards," Ronon said in his gruff voice. John suspected it was rusty because Ronon didn't use it often enough.

"That's probably true," John said helplessly. He thumbed through the proposal, but all he saw was a blur. Finally he swallowed hard and just said it: "You're leaving the company."

"It's our dream," Teyla said gently.

There was nothing John could say to that. Nothing, except: "Then of course I'll co-sign your loan."

The blinding smiles on both Teyla and Ronon's faces almost made up for the enormous lump sitting in John's throat. "When do you need me to do it?" he croaked.

"Next Wednesday," Teyla said promptly. "We have an appointment with the bank in the afternoon."

John took a deep breath, held it for a second, and let it out in a whoosh. He felt marginally calmer, calm enough that he was able to ask for details in a neutral tone. Calm enough that as Teyla explained how she and Ronon had been planning this for months -- _months_ -- he was able to smile and nod and turn his mind to more pleasant matters. Like Miko, for instance. Miko would never leave him. Well, at least not for another two years, anyway, since she was living at home while finishing her graduate work. And Jonas, he was around for good, or at least until someone offered him more than John could pay. Hm. Maybe it was time to consider offering Jonas a raise. Now that they were sure of the Pegasus contract they could afford it, though if John didn't find an entirely new waiting staff between now and the next event, there wouldn't be any Pegasus contract. Which meant he was going to have to buckle down and call Lorne, no matter how much groveling it was going to entail, and that was just a stopgap, because with losing Laura, Aiden, Ronon, and Teyla, they were going to need better help than John was going to be able to find in his little black book--

"--can fly," Teyla finished and stared at John.

John blinked back and realized that he had completely lost track of the conversation. "Oh, um, right."

Teyla's lips tightened to hold back laughter and Ronon snorted in obvious amusement. John winced. "Sorry, just...working out a few details."

At that, Teyla's face softened. "We're not abandoning you," she said gently, reaching out to rest her hand on John's forearm, which John found ridiculously comforting. "Ronon and I will continue to work for Atlantis while we set up the technical side of our own business. That will give you time to find replacements."

John let out a puff of air that almost managed to be a laugh. "You and Ronon can't be replaced."

Teyla smiled warmly and pulled John into her own, unique embrace. As their foreheads touched, she murmured, "Everything will be all right, John. You'll see."

ooo

After leaving Teyla and Ronon's apartment, John decided to get some lunch before calling Lorne. Not that he was particularly hungry, but it didn't seem like a good idea to eat crow on an empty stomach. Besides, now that he'd resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to solve his waiting problems on his own, it was time to see Jack. John had to hurry, though, or he'd lose his chance for the week.

Jack O'Neill had two great loves of his life: his business and his fishing. When John first started working for him, the restaurateur was working an insane number of hours each week, spending every night and most days in his restaurants and clubs. Now that his business was an unequivocal success, Jack was putting the same amount of dedication into his fishing. He came into the city on weekends to keep an eye on the crowd levels and to take care of any administrative matters his managers couldn't handle on their own, but by Sunday afternoon he was heading back out to his cabin in Pine Mountain Club where he'd stay until Friday night or Saturday morning. John had a secret dream to one day be able to do the same, only his cabin would be on a private beach and would have lots of guest rooms in case his family wanted to stop by for a visit.

After a couple of tries, John tracked Jack down at Nox. Nox was one of Jack's more modest successes, but it was easily John's favorite of Jack's empire. It was a funky little place with low lights, low music, lots of little alcoves for privacy, and a bevy of unassuming plants that one usually found in the woods, rather than in LA restaurants. Though John had never seen Jack's cabin -- Jack never invited anyone to his cabin -- he would lay money on it being a lot like Nox. Or, more accurately, Nox was probably a lot like Jack's cabin. Once John confirmed with the hostess that Jack was there, he ordered a turkey sandwich to be delivered to Jack's table and headed back to find his mentor.

Jack was hidden away in one of the smallest alcoves, talking on his cell phone, and his normally neutral face lit up when John poked his head in. John ruefully told himself that this visit was probably overdue.

"I'll have to call you back, Sam," Jack said into the phone as he waved John into the table's other chair. John cocked his head at the affection in Jack's voice. That wasn't a usual tone for Jack. In fact, Jack's voice was usually dry and amused. Distant, without being off-putting. Charming, but untouchable.

Jack grinned suddenly at whatever the man on the other end of the line said, but after a quick glance at John, he smothered the smile. "Yeah," Jack said, subtly shifting his body so that he was turned away from John. "Me, too." He turned the phone off and snapped it shut before turning back, his casual expression belied by the joy that was radiating from every line of his body.

Well, shit. It looked like Jack _was_ gay. Which meant John owed Aiden ten bucks. "So, who's the lucky fella?" he asked, trying to sound like he wasn't prying, even though they both knew he totally was.

"No one you know," Jack said, leaning back and crossing his arms. Before John could ask another leading question, Jack added, "I hear last night was a success."

John grinned and let the change of topic slide. He could always ask around later; waiters lived to gossip. "Yeah, it was." He leaned forward. "We've been hired by Pegasus Labs indefinitely."

"Nice," Jack said, dragging out the word and nodding in appreciation. "Tell me, is McKay the asshole that everyone says he is?"

John's grin slipped away as he wondered exactly who 'everyone' was. "No, he's not," he said sharply. "Actually, he's very--" nice? friendly? charming? blunt? "--interesting."

Jack raised an eyebrow. John tried not to blush. "Did you hear about Laura and Aiden?" he asked quickly. "They got an effects job."

"Really," Jack said, with a smirk. "Anything I might have heard of?"

"It's a Rod Johnson movie." John grinned with pride.

"I see they're playing to their strengths." Jack leaned forward. "How many of your dishes do they break?"

"I try not to think about it," John said with a shudder. "You had the right idea with Laura at Furlings. If I could afford to have her do nothing but chop vegetables, I would."

"She was damn fine at turning whole vegetables into tiny bits," Jack agreed. He inspected John closely and John tried not to squirm. "So with Aiden and Laura off your roster, how are you doing for wait staff?"

No one ever said Jack was dumb. Well, no one who really knew him, anyway. "Not good," John admitted. "And Ronon and Teyla are leaving as well."

"What?"

"I just found out today," John said, trying to sound supportive, rather than miserable. "They're starting up their own business. Personal protection."

"Hm." Jack settled back into his chair. "They'll make excellent bodyguards."

"I know, I know, it's just--" John sighed. "It just feels like everyone's drifting off."

"And leaving you behind?"

John scowled at the shrewd bastard sitting across from him.

Jack just laughed. "Tell you what -- I have a couple of waiters that you might be able to use. Lots of experience, look good in the uniforms, never forget an order."

John's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing," John said, his face full of innocence that John didn't buy for a second.

Still, he needed the staff and he knew Jack would never give him someone completely unusable. "All right," John sighed. "What are their names?"

ooo

Within five minutes of meeting his new waiters, John knew what was wrong with them. Daniel Jackson, an archeological undergrad who was waiting to help offset the enormous cost of living in LA, never stopped talking. Never. It was a constant stream of words, most of them on subjects that no one cared about, like dead languages and the importance of pottery design on ancient Egyptian culture. Lorne, who had shamelessly used John's difficult position to negotiate an exorbitant salary before agreeing to come back, spent most of his prep time peppering Daniel with questions, all of which Daniel was happy to answer. At length. John suspected Lorne was doing it just to be mean.

Teal'c, on the other hand, never said a word. At all. Which meant that John had no idea where he had come from or what he was doing in LA, though his best guess was that he was from a small African country and was hoping to break into the business. If that was the case, Teal'c was probably out of luck. There wasn't much call for enormous actors that could neither speak, nor emote. Well, except for the obvious, but John figured if Teal'c was willing to do porn, he probably wouldn't be working as a waiter. Which was good for Atlantis, since Teal'c was fantastically strong, and would probably be able to take over most of the heavy work that Ronon and Teyla had previously handled.

Best of all, despite the bizarre audio effect of constant noise on one side and constant silence on the other, Daniel and Teal'c worked well as a team and a few trial runs demonstrated that they knew how to handle a full tray of drinks. John decided to give them a test run at the sports banquet Atlantis was catering on Friday.

Unfortunately, another staffing problem happened on Tuesday, when Cameron called to report that he'd gotten an acting gig, working opposite muppets in a low-budget sci-fi show. In _Australia_. [3] John gave the show a week before it was cancelled, but that didn't help his current predicament.

After a surprisingly pleasant chat with Lorne -- presumably Lorne was getting tired of mocking, because John didn't think his own status as Lorne's boss carried all that much weight -- about Lorne's unemployed friends, John found himself with a hyperactive Japanese man named Hiro [4], who didn't speak much English, but whose enthusiasm somehow managed to make up for it. By the end of the meet-and-greet, Teyla and Ronon had adopted the new waiter, and Miko had deigned to let him try her latest experiment in pesto.

Thursday, John got a call in the middle of the banquet prep. He tossed his wet towel to Lorne and ran to the office to grab the phone. "Atlantis Catering."

A polite female voice answered. "May I speak to John Sheppard, please?"

John dropped into his chair. "Speaking."

"Hi, Mr. Sheppard," the woman said. "My name is Kate Heightmeyer. I've just been hired as the director of public relations for Pegasus Labs. You'll be working with me now."

"What?" John said numbly.

"Dr. McKay hired me to organize Pegasus events," Kate said, speaking slowly, as if she wasn't sure of John's intelligence.

"But I thought--" John cut himself off. It didn't matter what he thought. He could freak out about McKay's sudden change of heart later. Right now he had a job to do. John cleared his throat and dug deep to find a bit of charm. "I'm sorry, you just surprised me. Congratulations on your new position."

"Thank you," Kate said coolly.

John grimaced. Apparently he hadn't made the best first impression. Nothing could be done for it now, however, except to try and change her mind. "So what can I do for you?"

There was the distinct sound of rustling papers in the background, and when Kate spoke again her voice was brisk and business-like. "I'm calling to make sure you are fully apprised of all coming events. The next two months are critical to Pegasus's success. I want to be sure we're all on the same page."

"Right," John said, leaning out into the hallway to see the events calendar. "You've got something coming up in just a couple of weeks, right?"

John knew it wasn't physically possible, but it certainly seemed like the handset got several degrees colder. "The Thanksgiving Ball," Kate said flatly.

"Exactly," John said hastily. "That's what I meant." Disapproval poured off of the phone in waves. John winced. "You have the Christmas and New Year Eve's Balls as well. And the Masquerade Ball in January." He bet there was something Valentine related in February, but Sora hadn't wanted to commit to anything that far in advance.

"Right," Kate said, sounding slightly mollified, though still annoyed. John sighed silently.

They talked for the next half hour, discussing potential last minute location changes -- apparently no one was happy with the Hilton, though there weren't many unbooked alternatives this late in the season -- and party sizes. The Masquerade Ball was going to be the biggest of the four, with two hundred at the reception (no dinner, thank goodness) and up to five hundred at the ball itself. By comparison, the Thanksgiving Ball was going to be intimate -- no more than a hundred at the ball and thirty at dinner. By the end of the conversation, John felt he had regained a little ground in Kate's eyes, which was a huge relief, since he was now working with her instead of McKay.

He was no longer working with McKay. John ripped into a head of lettuce with unnecessary force, scattering leaves everywhere. He wasn't working with McKay any longer. After taking the time to pull John aside to praise him and his crew and to offer them a job in perpetuity, Rodney McKay had decided that he no longer had time to work with John himself. Instead, he went out and hired a PR woman. _A PR woman_. What the hell--

Miko's hand on John's wrist interrupted his thoughts. "I don't want to have to go on another lettuce run," she said mildly.

John looked at the bowl of lettuce bits and flushed. "I guess it's shredded enough."

"I think so." Miko released his arm and stood back. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," John said automatically. He wiped lettuce juice off of his hands, staining the towel green. Glancing around the kitchen, he saw that everyone was studiously not looking at him. "Maybe I should go for a drive."

"I think that's an excellent idea," Miko said. She glanced at Jonas and lowered her voice, "Pick up some Hidden Valley on the way home."

John smiled and matched her conspiratorial whisper. "Will do."

She nodded in satisfaction and went back to the barbecue sauce bubbling gently on the stove. Pulled pork barbecue with baked beans, potato salad, and mixed spring greens was the standard Atlantis meal for sporting banquets, along with Jonas's famous rolls, of course, and Oreo pudding, which was basically French silk pie spread out over a large pan. They'd made this particular meal dozens of times before, and the kitchen was moving like clockwork, each component part doing its job smoothly and quickly, coming together to create a delicious meal that could feed a hundred in less time than most people spent on a meal for ten. He smiled at their smooth efficiency and his blood pressure lowered enough that he was able to start thinking about the best place to buy ranch dressing as he walked to his car.

The good mood lasted until he opened his driver's side door and was struck with an ugly thought: if McKay now had a PR woman, why would he need someone else to host his parties?

John's body flashed cold, then hot. He slammed the car door hard as he climbed in and he peeled out of the parking lot with a disregard for traffic safety that Laura would have applauded. How dare he? How dare that bastard fire him? Without notice, without provocation. Hell, without even the courtesy of telling him to his face. Or, really, telling him at all. What kind of jackass did that to someone?

Well, what kind of jackass just took it? John snarled lightly and turned his car around, ranch dressing forgotten. It was time for a little talk with Dr. Rodney McKay.

ooo

By the time he reached Pegasus Labs, John had calmed down enough to put a polite smile on his face as he greeted Stackhouse, the front desk receptionist/guard/bouncer for the building. "I'm going to McKay's office," he said.

Stackhouse was one of the many people John had charmed as part of his efforts to woo Pegasus Labs into the Atlantis family, and now all of that work paid off as Stackhouse shook his head and just answered, "Better you than me," as he passed over the sign-in sheet. John kept up the smile as he filled in his name and arrival time.

The smile slipped away as he headed for the elevator, however, and by the time he reached the offices on the fifth floor, he was raging again. Blowing right past Sora's old desk, John threw open the door to McKay's office. "You son of a bitch."

McKay looked up from his laptop, a soft pretzel dangling from a hand frozen halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"You _son_ of a _bitch_."

At that, McKay dropped the pretzel and hit a button on his phone. "Zelenka? I need some help here."

John slammed the door shut. "Why, McKay? What the hell did I do wrong, huh?"

McKay glanced around the room, as if expecting to see some other McKay in the office. "How did you get in here and what the hell are you talking about?" His eyes suddenly narrowed. "You haven't suffered a recent blow to the head, have you?" he asked suspiciously.

John banged on McKay's desk with his fists and leaned in close. "I'm talking about Kate Heightmeyer, you prick. I'm talking about the woman you hired to replace me."

Comprehension flooded McKay's face, followed immediately by confusion. "Wait--"

Just then the door opened and Zelenka's head popped in. "Problem?"

McKay leaned sideways to see the door around John. "I think I broke him," he said, pointing at John.

Zelenka shot McKay a look of withering scorn before turning and leaving, shutting the door with more force than necessary.

McKay looked shocked at the abandonment. "Why that little Czech turncoat," he muttered. He stood up and walked around John as if he wasn't even there. "Assistant Director my _ass_," he added. "If he's not going to even look into the personnel issues around here _or_ sign the damn payroll checks..."

John lost some of his fury in confusion. "Uh, Dr. Mckay?"

McKay stopped and glanced back, his hand on the doorknob. "Yes? Oh, right." He turned back to face John, his arms crossed defensively in front of his chest. "Look, I didn't fire you. Heightmeyer isn't taking over catering or hosting duties."

"Oh," John said. The rest of his anger washed away, leaving him embarrassed and empty. "Then why did you hire her? I thought I was going to be reporting directly to you."

"Sure, for anything related to food. I like food. I'm good with food. I'm happy to spend moderate amounts of time deciding which foods will make an insufferable social event bearable. But for the rest of the logistics--" McKay shrugged. "I don't know how you go about renting a space for a ball and I certainly don't care. As for deciding who to invite and figuring out the invitations--" He shuddered. "I'd rather spend the day working with Kavanagh."

"Oh," John said again. Now he felt stupid and more than a little contrite. He was also starting to feel a small wave of panic as he realized just how badly he had screwed up here. Thinking about how he had stormed into the office and cursed out his most important client, John flushed hotly. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Yes, well," McKay huffed. "It's a good thing you have an exceptional chef."

"And I help you bag up the leftovers," John offered hopefully.

"That, too," McKay allowed. He cleared his throat and fidgeted for a moment before adding, "And, well, maybe I should have called you. About Heightmeyer. So you'd know what was going on."

John wanted to say something scathing about how that would have been the decent thing to do, but he wasn't exactly standing on the moral high ground here. Instead, he said, "Next time, then." He cleared his throat and asked tentatively, "Will there be a next time?"

McKay frowned. "What?"

Now John wished he hadn't brought it up, but it wasn't like he had much choice. People were depending on this job. He had to be perfectly clear on where he and Atlantis Catering stood. "I'm really sorry about coming in here like this, and about what I said. I understand if you don't think you can work with me anymore, but if you think you can, I promise you I'll do everything in my power to help make this right." McKay's frown deepened, so John added quickly, "And if you can't, we'll arrange another contact for you at Atlantis. You don't have to see me if you don't want to, but please, give Atlantis another chance."

McKay stared at John. "I'm not going to fire you. Where am I going to find the time to hire another caterer? And I'm certainly not letting Heighmeyer play hostess. Have you talked to the woman? She sounds like a shrink. A cold, disapproving shrink. So, unless you've got someone else in mind to take over, you're stuck with the job."

John sighed in relief. "Really?"

McKay rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Seriously, Thursdays are crappy enough without having to repeat myself over and over again. You're not fired. Really, you're not. Now, could you please go away so I can finish signing payroll checks and get back to my real work?"

"Right," John said quickly. "Of course." At the door, however, he stopped, unable to help himself from asking one final question. "Do you break people often?"

McKay had already turned back to his laptop, but he glanced up to answer, "Not since Zelenka banned me from the main lab."

John bit back a smile. "You let him do that?"

"Ha. I just wish I'd thought of it first," McKay said. "Now I work on special projects full time and Zelenka gets to handle all of the HR problems." He turned away from the laptop. "Do you know, I think he actually likes interviewing prospective employees."

"So do I," John said. Then he thought of Lorne. "Well, usually."

"Of course you do," McKay said. It didn't sound like a compliment.

John figured McKay was just jealous, but managed not to say that out loud. He'd already pushed his luck enough for one day. Instead he asked, "When do you want to get together to talk about the Thanksgiving menu?"

McKay glanced back at his computer, then at the stack of unsigned checks on the corner of his desk. "How about now?"

John grinned. "I think that's a great idea."

They ended up going to a Starbucks. John normally tried to avoid chain stores -- as an underdog himself, it felt like treason to patronize a franchise over local retailers -- but he had to admit that the coffee wasn't bad. It was overpriced, though, which John found odd. He thought the reason big chains were so popular was because they low-balled the competition.

Taking his plain black coffee, John stood back and watched them make McKay's mochachino with three shots of chocolate and three shots of espresso. There was barely enough room in the cup for a shot of milk, much less foam. McKay forked over an obscene amount of money and took the cup with all the reverence he might afford the Holy Grail. John covered a smile by taking a sip of coffee and made a mental note to recommend Jonas's tiramisu for an upcoming event. It probably wouldn't fit with a Thanksgiving or Christmas theme, but it would be perfect for the Masquerade Ball.

McKay settled into the most comfortable looking chair in the place and gulped down his drink with an expression of rapture. He had finished half before he stopped for a breath and a moony smile. "I haven't had one of these since Sora left." He sighed.

John settled back into his own, significantly less comfortable, chair. "Who was she spying for, anyway?"

"The Genii Corporation." McKay spat out the words as if they tasted bad. "Not that we could ever prove it. Whatever she was working for, it wasn't money."

"That sucks," John said. It was a massive understatement, he knew, but what exactly did one say in a case of corporate espionage? Sorry your confidentiality agreement was violated? Not something Miss Manners ever covered. "How'd you find out?"

McKay finished his coffee and looked at his empty cup mournfully before setting it aside with a sigh. "We'd known for a while that we'd had a leak. Genii was consistently beating us to low-level patents and occasionally referencing our classified research, research that they weren't nearly competent enough to have developed independently."

While McKay continued to detail their investigation, John found his mind wandering to the name of the rival corporation. Genii. It sounded familiar for some reason, but he couldn't put his finger on why. Something he'd heard recently, something threaded with a faint roil of disquiet deep in his gut. It bothered him that he couldn't remember, especially since it seemed associated with something unpleasant. Finally he interrupted McKay's diatribe on the many errors inherent to Genii's mission of focusing strictly on the applied aspects of research with a question: "Why have I heard the name Genii before?"

"Were you even listening to me?" McKay snapped. Before John could answer, the scientist rolled his eyes and continued, "Never mind, obviously you weren't. If you were, you'd probably have heard me mention the name Cowen; you met him at the Charity Ball."

"Right, Cowen. The dick with Kinsey." McKay looked pleased with John's characterization.

John thought about being embarrassed about his inattention, but decided not to bother. Based on his behavior at the ball, McKay tuned people out all the time. Though he'd never tuned John out, as far as John could tell. So maybe a little embarrassment. "Sorry," he said. "I was listening, but it was bugging me that I couldn't remember where I'd heard the name."

"It's okay," McKay said magnanimously. "You can make it up for me by getting me another mochachino."

John laughed out loud at that, but climbed to his feet and went to the counter. Five minutes later, he handed McKay a seriously overpriced cup of coffee. "One heart attack in a cup," he offered.

McKay took a sip and gave a sigh of sheer bliss. "Perfect."

"I never forget a drink," John said honestly.

"That's what I love about you," McKay said and took another sip, completely missing John's incredulous look. "Well, that, and your chef's chocolate torte cake. That was an amazing cake."

John shook his head ruefully. From anyone else, John would have considered McKay's comment a come-on, but clearly McKay was simply socially clueless. So, rather than offering a flirty reply, John said, "Glad you liked it. If you want, we can serve that for the Thanksgiving dinner."

McKay considered before shaking his head sadly. "I think we're going to have to have pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving. But maybe for Christmas..."

"We can do that." Deciding that now was as good a time as any to get down to business, John pulled out a small notebook. "So, what else did you have in mind for the Thanksgiving menu?"

After half an hour of debate, the menu consisted of: turkey and gravy, sage stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, tossed salad, fruit salad, Jonas's rolls, multi-grain rolls, pumpkin pie, gingerbread cookies, and cherry pie. John stared at the list and tried to picture all of this food on one plate. "That's a lot of food," he commented.

"Yes," McKay said happily. "And I think we should add the potato filling. It sounds delicious."

"It is delicious," John said. "But you already have stuffing and mashed potatoes on the menu. You don't really need a third starch that's a combination of the two. Not to mention the yams. Actually, I don't know how we're going to get this all on the plate in the first place. We can put the salads and the cranberry sauce on the table, but everything else needs to be dished out in the kitchen and it's just not going to fit."

As John frowned at the menu, McKay said, "Why not just put the green beans in a bowl, too? I'm sure everyone would much rather have the potatoes and stuffing."

John was sure of no such thing, but the suggestion reminded him of something else he saw in Pennsylvania, something that he would normally never even consider with a large group. However, with only thirty people... "Have you ever heard of family style dining?"

McKay displayed a surprising degree of coordination by shaking his head and draining his cup simultaneously. "Please tell me it doesn't involve actual family," he said, putting the cup aside. "Because while my sister and I can sometimes go an entire meal without screaming at each other, my parents wouldn't make it past the appetizers."

Jesus. John tried to look sympathetic, rather than pitying. "That sounds awful."

McKay shrugged. "If they hadn't been awful, I probably would have spent more time at home and less time developing my genius. When I eventually win the Nobel Prize, I'll be sure to thank my parents for giving me the impetus to explore my full potential."

"Wow," John said, impressed. "I don't think I could be that gracious if I were in your shoes."

McKay snorted. "I'm not being gracious. With any luck, my speech will give the two of them a stroke."

"Oh." John searched for a suitable response and finally gave up. "So, family dining. It's a Pennsylvania Dutch thing, where instead of waiters bringing out prepared plates, they bring out platters of food and everyone at the table serves himself. You know, like at a large family dinner."

"Caterers do this?" McKay asked, sounding deeply dubious.

John shrugged. "I don't know about caterers, but some restaurants do." He looked at the list of food again. "Really, it's the only option if you want to have all of these side dishes, and I think the Thanksgiving group will be small enough to make it doable. We'll just have to remove any unnecessary plate and seat five or six to a table, instead of eight."

"Can I have potato filling?"

"You can have potato filling," John confirmed with a smile. McKay looked like he was about to cave, so John gave one more little push. "I know it's different, but you can make it work for you. It's a lot easier to hit someone up for money if they've just asked you to pass the mashed potatoes."

McKay laughed. "We don't need money."

John stared at him, confused. "Then what were you doing kissing Weir's ass?"

"I wasn't kissing Weir's ass," McKay said hotly. John just looked at him. "I wasn't! _Radek_ was kissing Weir's ass."

John rolled his eyes. "Okay, so why was _Radek_ kissing Weir's ass?"

McKay blew out a sigh. "The government has a project we want. And before you say anything, yes, it does come with money, but that's not why we want the project. The government has access to some seriously fascinating, um, stuff, and only one contractor is going to get access. We want it. And, obviously, so does the Genii Corporation. Kinsey's backing them. Really backing them, in fact, to the point that our legal department is looking into whether they paid him off, though they haven't found anything yet. Senator Hammond is on our side, probably because he thinks Kinsey's an untrustworthy ass. Which he is. Weir's the wildcard. We want her to choose us."

John considered bringing the discussion back to Thanksgiving planning, but honestly, McKay's gossip was much more interesting. "What's the research about?"

"Deep space telemetry," McKay said, looking away from John and staring at the opposite wall. John raised his eyebrows, but before he could ask about the obvious lie, McKay blatantly changed the subject. "If family dining is a Pennsylvania Dutch custom, how'd you learn about it?"

Well, that was interesting. Unfortunately, John didn't know McKay enough to push, at least not yet. Someday, maybe, he could ask McKay again. For now, there was a very awkward question on the table. John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, considering his answer. Finally he told McKay about the road trip he and Alex had taken so many years ago. About the desire to see the country beyond the artificiality of LA. To mock Mt. Rushmore while standing on George Washington's head; to experience Maine lobster while actually in Maine; to taste gumbo in an authentic Cajun restaurant. To explore the USA and come home triumphant and full of stories. Grand ambitions for a twenty-one year old John Sheppard.

Then he told McKay about the car breaking down in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, turning their two weeks on the eastern seaboard into two weeks in Amish country. About eating cheap, bland food in a bevy of diners and hiking in Pennsylvania's tiny, heavily forested mountains. About the day they ate nothing but Turkey Hill ice cream and Tastykakes and got sick. About coming home by way of Las Vegas and blowing the rest of their money on one heartbreaking turn of the roulette wheel.

He did _not_ tell McKay that the trip had been Alex's idea or that John had been so lust-addled that he put eighteen-year-old Carson in charge of the family while John went gallivanting around the country with Alex. He did not tell McKay that Alex had made a game of bending John over every flat surface they came across or the fact that they were almost arrested for indecent exposure. Twice. He didn't tell McKay that the trip had almost cost Carson his college fund and was the reason that Carson had become a vet, rather than the medical doctor he'd always dreamed of being. He didn't tell McKay that he'd considered staying on the road and might not have come back home at all if he hadn't caught Alex fucking a tourist in the back seat of John's car, because Alex had convinced John that love mattered more than anything else in the world, more than John's job, more than John's family, more than John's independence. He didn't tell McKay any of these things, though the silent words built up in John's throat and threatened to choke him.

Fortunately, McKay was easily up to the challenge of stopping awkward silences before they could start and this time John had no trouble paying attention to every word. McKay told John about the nuclear bomb he'd built for a science fair at the age of twelve, and the subsequent visit from the CIA. His alternate project (a handcrafted telescope with significant improvements over most commercially available scopes) was a big success, however, and he was invited to attend an international science fair, where he met fellow scientific genius Radek Zelenka. After they graduated from college, both McKay and Zelenka had been wooed by virtually all of the significant military, government, and private labs in the world, but neither one liked the idea of being told what they could or could not research. Instead of accepting any of the myriad offers on the table, they banded together to start Pegasus Labs and soon the cream of the scientific crop were lining up to work for them.

"Unlike most corporate labs, we focus on pure research," McKay said, leaning forward and gesturing wildly with his hands. "What most ignorant pencil-pushing lab CEOs like Cowen don't understand is that applications are a natural result of the scientific process. If you only explore avenues of research that might produce profit, then you are, by definition, limiting the number of potentially profitable applications. If you research everything, you have an infinite number of potential discoveries, any one of which could be profitable. Just last week, in fact, Simpson--"

A waiter interrupted McKay's enthusiastic monologue with a polite cough. "Excuse me, sir, but I'm afraid we're closing."

John glanced around the shop and realized with a start that they were the only ones left. Outside it was dark and a quick look at his watch revealed that it was after ten. "Oh, crap. Miko's going to kill me."

"Your chef? Why?" McKay asked as they threw away their cups and headed for the door. The waiter followed to lock up the second they were outside.

"We normally have dinner together," John explained. McKay looked knowing, so John added quickly, "Not like that. She's my sister. Adopted, obviously."

"Oh," McKay said. "I guess it's easier to get along with sisters when you're not actually related to them."

"Maybe," John said doubtfully. "I think it just depends on the sister. Laura and I don't get along very well most of the time."

"Also adopted?" John nodded. McKay shook his head. "How many siblings do you have?"

So John talked about his family for the whole walk back to Pegasus Labs. They reached his car before he ran out of words and their goodbyes took nearly a half hour as each kept thinking of one more thing to contribute to the conversation. By the time John finally pulled out onto the street to head home it was well after eleven and John felt stuffed full of warmth and well-being. He caught himself smiling several times during the drive and even the fact that McKay was straight couldn't quite kill his good mood.

As he climbed up to his bedroom, John realized that he had gone a whole afternoon without thinking about Carson's dad, Laura and Aiden's big break, or even Teyla and Ronon's new business. For the first time in days he found himself relaxed and comfortable in his skin and as soon as his head hit his pillow, John fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

ooo

Friday's banquet went smoothly and Daniel and Teal'c were hired on full time. On Monday, Hiro was cast in a TV series about superheroes that probably wouldn't last till November sweeps and John put Lorne in charge of filling the open position.

"I'm not a bottomless pit of waiters," Lorne said, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Lorne's stance was strongly reminiscent of McKay. John hoped the resultant flush of heat wasn't visible on his face. "Maybe you should avoid actors," he suggested. "Even in LA, there must be someone who's not looking to break into the business."

Lorne looked thoughtful and went back polishing silver for Saturday's Thanksgiving ball. The lack of further protest made John suspicious, but he couldn't exactly complain about Lorne actually following orders for once, so he just shook his head and decided not to worry about it. Ronon and Teyla were helping on Saturday, which meant that they would have plenty of waiters. If Lorne couldn't find someone suitable, they would just do without.

Tuesday, John was scheduled to meet with Carson's biological father, an event John anticipated with the same level of enthusiasm he afforded major dental work. As he drove over to Carson's, John considered several excuses to bail out on the entire meet. Unfortunately, he couldn't come up with anything that Carson and, more importantly, Laura, would buy before he pulled up to Carson's neat little duplex and so, with a sigh, John resigned himself to meeting this complete stranger who was trying to worm his way into the Sheppard clan.

Before John could ring the bell, Carson threw the door open. "John, I'm so glad you could come."

"Where else would I be?" John said with his best grin and hoped Carson wouldn't think too hard about the answer to that one. "Is your dad here?"

"I certainly am," a jovial voice answered in a thick Scottish brogue. John looked up to see a small mountain masquerading as a man with thick brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. The mountain held out a hand the size of a grizzly bear paw. "Carson Beckett."

John shot Carson a quick glance before taking the massive hand. "John Sheppard. Very nice to meet you."

Carson beamed at the both of them. If he'd been a girl -- not a Sheppard girl, but one of those overly dramatic women in movies -- his hands would no doubt be clasped over his heart. "My mom named me after him," Carson gushed.

Sometimes John found it very hard to believe that he was the only gay man in his family. "That's nice," he said. "But it might get a bit confusing."

"Not at all," Carson Beckett said heartily. "You can call me Dr. Beckett."

"Oh," John said. "Well. Thank you."

"Not at all." Beckett wrapped an arm around Carson's shoulders. "So, has my son told you about our big plans?"

Big plans? John raised his eyebrows at Carson. "No, no he didn't."

Carson flushed and quickly said: "Nothing's been decided."

"We're waiting for the paternity results," Beckett said. He leaned forward to add in a conspiratorial whisper, "I'm not worried."

John glanced between the two men. He had to admit, the resemblance was striking. Not only did they share the same brown hair and pale skin, but Beckett's clear blue eyes were identical to Carson's and they both had the same beautifully shaped mouth. It was hard to imagine that the similarities were all a mere coincidence. John swallowed hard and forced out the question. "What plans?"

"They're not definite," Carson said immediately. "No matter what the results of the test, I'm not going to go to Scotland without putting a lot of thought into the decision."

John's eyes widened. "Go to Scotland?" he repeated, his voice cracking slightly on the last word.

"Only maybe!" Carson exclaimed.

Only maybe? Only maybe Carson would be leaving? To go to _Scotland_?

"I've offered him a job at my company," Beckett cut in, looking decidedly less genial with each passing minute. "We have a large number of lab animals that need to be completely healthy before they can be used for testing. It makes sense to have a full-time veterinarian on-site, and it would give Carson the opportunity to gain some practical lab experience that could eventually count toward a second degree. The University of Edinburgh has an excellent genetics program."

John just gaped at Carson, knowing his jaw was hanging, but unable to do a thing about it.

"Nothing's decided, John," Carson said, sounding miserable. "I don't have to go."

John finally managed a deep, shuddering breath. "But you want to go, right?"

Carson flushed and studied his shoes. When he spoke, his words were so quiet that John wasn't entire sure he wasn't imagining them: "I could be a doctor. A real doctor."

John flinched at Carson's words, but he knew he deserved it. He deserved anything and everything that Carson could dish out to him. "It's a good offer," he choked out. "You should consider it. I'll back you up, whatever you decide to do."

Carson shot him a look full of gratitude and John felt like the lowest scum on earth, because it was his fault that Carson wasn't already a medical doctor. Carson shouldn't be grateful to John. Never to John.

Beckett looked equally pleased. "Well there you go," he said, squeezing Carson lightly, then letting go. He turned to John. "Carson said you were the smartest person he knew."

John blushed hotly and said the first thing that came to mind. "You should meet Miko."

"I'd like to," Beckett said. "I'd like to meet all of Carson's family."

Well, shit. John struggled to find something to say other than 'over my dead body', but it was Carson who eventually broke the awkward silence. "Why don't we move to the living room?"

The suggestion was gratefully received by all parties, as was Carson's offer of tea for Beckett and coffee for John. By the time everyone was settled with a hot beverage and cookie in hand -- Carson was nothing if not a good host -- the tension had dissipated to no more than a dull roar and John was calm enough to manage small talk. To Beckett's credit, he looked genuinely interested as John described Atlantis Catering and their big coup with Pegasus Labs, while John in turn was honestly impressed as Beckett outlined how he had built his company from a tiny Scottish lab into one of the largest genetics researchers in the world. John didn't miss the way Beckett was subtly selling the company to Carson, but even John had to admit that it would be a good opportunity for his brother. Even if he didn't get his MD (which would be paid for by the company, Beckett stressed, an incentive program available to all employees), with GenCorp on his resume, Carson could find work at virtually any genetics lab in the world.

"Maybe even one in LA?" John suggested.

"Of course," Beckett said. "In fact, there are a couple of very good firms within a half hour from here who are always looking for researchers with experience. LuthorCorp's LA labs are especially cutting-edge, and I happen to know their head of HR. Once Carson has enough experience, I can make a call for him." He smiled at Carson.

To his disgust, John found himself liking Carson's probable biological father. If only this man didn't want to take Carson away. If only Carson could take that job at LuthorCorp right away, rather than having to go to Scotland first.

_If only Mom and Dad were still alive,_ John thought wryly. _If only I'd never met Alex._ He managed a smile that was only a little forced and asked, "How long are you going to be in the US?"

"A few more weeks yet," Beckett said. "Every couple of years I come to check on my US properties." He launched into a description of the vacation homes he maintained around the world, including the three in the United States -- Napa Valley, Key Largo, and Martha's Vineyard -- which John didn't find nearly as interesting as the evolution of a corporate giant, though John's interest perked up when Beckett added, "And, of course, you are always welcome to use any of my properties."

"Really?" John said. He realized how that sounded, so he quickly added, "But you don't know me at all."

"Carson said you took care of him and his brothers and sisters after your parents died," Beckett said with a shrug. John glanced at Carson, who was bashfully studying his feet. Beckett continued. "I figure, if you could take care of six kids when you were only eighteen years old, you shouldn't have any problems with a sturdy villa. Besides, I rarely make it over here and houses are meant to be used. You'd be doing me a favor, actually, airing the place out."

"That's very generous of you," John said after a beat. "I'll think about it."

That must have been the right thing to say, because Beckett beamed and John could see exactly how Carson would look in another couple of decades. "Wonderful," Beckett enthused. "I'll leave the key with Carson."

Speaking of Carson, John decided that he and Beckett had sniffed each other out long enough. Time to bring his shy brother back into the conversation. "How's Ginny doing?" he asked Carson.

"You know, I have no idea," Carson said, sounding thrilled by his lack of knowledge. "Thankfully, Ronon took her back. But I just got this lovely new patient, named Princess..."

Carson went on to describe the hulking St. Bernard with the unlikely name of Princess and John smiled and soaked up Carson's obvious happiness.

ooo

The next day was even more trying. It started in the morning when Lorne showed up with a new waiter. Apparently Lorne had taken John's advice, because Blair Sandburg [5] wasn't an actor; rather, he was a graduate student looking to get his doctorate in anthropology. He was currently in LA doing a little unofficial research into the world of struggling actors while waiting for his financial aid to come through.

At first it seemed like a good fit, as Blair was charming and witty and got along with everyone. He and Daniel chopped vegetables together and got into a good-natured argument about the relative merits of their respective fields. At least, the argument started out good-natured. John hadn't realized how much it had degenerated until Daniel threw a stalk of celery at Blair's head and called him an "undereducated product of a history-blind field". Blair retaliated with handful of parsley and the theory that Daniel stuck to "pottery shards and dead languages" because he didn't have the balls to study actual living humans.

The resulting fight involved an unseemly amount of hair-pulling for a pair of grown men.

John had Teal'c separate the two scholars and both Daniel and Blair were put on probation. John hoped they would behave. He'd never had to fire anyone before and he wasn't keen on starting now.

In the afternoon, John, Teyla, and Ronon met with the loan officer to learn the final verdict on Teyla and Ronon's business loan. The original proposal that they had presented the week before had been rejected, since Atlantis was just starting to show a profit after a couple of tough years and wasn't enough to overcome Teyla and Ronon's non-existent credit rating, but Teyla and Ronon hadn't seemed discouraged. They rewrote their proposal for half the amount of the original loan and for his part, John spent a week making charts and writing stirring arguments as to why Atlantis was now not only financially sound, but was actually an excellent investment.

After all of their efforts, the meeting itself lasted only a few minutes. The bank manager approved their loan amount and sent them on their way with such haste that John suspected the man had a golf game to get to.

Teyla and Ronon didn't care. Though they weren't usually demonstrative people, they both wrapped John in big hugs, and once they made it to the street Ronon let out an exuberant roar that caused more than one scantily clad starlet to look startled and cross to the other side of the street. Teyla and John shared an amused glance and started down the sidewalk, Ronon close behind them.

"I want a drink," Ronon announced as they reached John's car.

John grinned and unlocked his door. "Come on then, I'll buy you a cranberry juice."

"No," Ronon said. "A real drink. Beer," he added wistfully.

Teyla smacked him lightly on the arm. "Cranberry juice would be wonderful," she told John.

Ronon sighed mournfully as Teyla slid into the back seat. "One beer?" he asked John hopefully over the roof of the car.

John held up his hands defensively. "That's between you and Teyla, buddy."

Ronon sighed again and got into the car. John smiled and started towards the nearest juice bar.

ooo

Thursday, John found himself in front of Starbucks. Without letting himself think about it too much, he went in and ordered a triple-chocolate, triple-espresso mochachino. He took a tentative sip, winced, and ordered a regular coffee as well.

Disgusting beverage in hand, John walked to Pegasus Labs, nodded at Stackhouse and headed upstairs to McKay's office.

He found McKay in much the same position he was in last Thursday -- working on his laptop at his desk and ignoring a large stack of payroll checks. John set the mochachino next to the checks and announced, "I brought you a Sugar Shock."

McKay frowned. "A what? Also, how do you keep getting past our security?"

John grinned. "A Sugar Shock. That disgusting chocolate and caffeine mixture you drink. I figured anything that can cause spontaneous cardiac arrest deserved its own name."

McKay took the drink with the same reverence he'd shown it last week and sipped. A blissed-out smile crossed his face.

Taking advantage of McKay's distraction, John skipped right over the security question and added, "I just dropped by to see if there were any last minute details we needed to go over before Saturday."

McKay looked at John, at the coffee cup, at the pile of unsigned checks, then back at John. After a moment, he lifted the cup to his mouth and drained it in four long swallows. John tried not to look too horrified.

Once the coffee was finished, McKay wheezed, "I'm sure we've got plenty to discuss, but I'm out of coffee. Why don't we talk about it on the way to Starbucks?"

John couldn't help but grin. "Yeah," he said. "I think that's a great idea."

McKay grinned back and came around the desk as John chivalrously opened the door. The scientist barely crossed the threshold before stopping with a startled yelp.

John frowned and leaned his head around the door to see Zelenka on the other side, arms crossed and stern expression firmly in place.

McKay lifted his chin. "Radek. What are you doing here?"

"Preventing you from shirking your HR duties," Zelenka said. "_Again_. Also, how does this man continue to get past security?"

Both McKay and Zelenka turned to John, who froze, his brain racing. "Uh," he said intelligently.

Zelenka sighed. "Did you even run a background check on him?" he asked McKay.

"Of course," McKay snapped back. "Sora al--oh."

They both turned back to John, who held his hands up defensively. "Oh, wait. No. I'm not a spy. Really."

McKay turned to Zelenka. "He can't be a spy. Have you tried his meatballs?"

"Well, actually, those are Jonas's meatballs," John pointed out helpfully.

"I am not comfortable with this discussion of meatballs," Zelenka said. He pointed at McKay. "You. Sign the payroll checks or I will give Kavanagh access code to the special projects lab."

McKay's eyes widened. "You wouldn't. That pea-brained hippie wouldn't be in there ten minutes before he fried the supercomputer."

Zelenka grinned. "Such catastrophic repairs would fall under your budget, I believe."

McKay glowered and started toward his desk, muttering under his breath about power-mad Czech midgets.

Clearly unconcerned by McKay's vitriol, Zelenka turned to John. "You. Come with me."

John sent McKay a desperate plea with his eyes, to no avail. With a sigh, he turned and followed Zelenka out of the office.

He spent the next hour answering increasingly personal questions as Zelenka typed rapidly on his computer and said "hm" a lot. At one point John had tried to protest, but Zelenka had nailed him with a piercing glare and asked him how important Pegasus Labs was as a client. John winced and didn't say anything. When Zelenka repeated the question, John sighed and rattled off the names of every person he'd slept with in the last six months. Well, every name he could remember. Zelenka didn't appear too impressed with John's memory.

Zelenka wrapped up the interview by handing John a stack of forms. "Please have your employees fill these out and return them to me."

John glanced at the forms, which were obviously designed to gather basic information. "Do they need to fill these out?" he asked. "Because I could do it now and just give them back to you."

"You carry your employees' personal information on your person?"

"Sort of," John said. "I remember it."

This time Zelenka's piercing stare was mixed with a hefty dose of speculation and suspicion. "You have _memorized_ your employees' information?"

"It's not like I sit down and work at it," John said defensively, wishing that he had just taken the damn forms and fled when he'd had the chance. "I just remember them. I'm good with numbers. I always have been."

"Hm," Zelenka said. John was starting to hate that sound. Zelenka stared at him for several more moments and John tried not to squirm. Finally, the scientist turned back to his computer. "You may fill out the forms."

"Thanks," John muttered. He focused on the papers, which were much less scary than Zelenka, and completed them in short order, only stumbling over the occasional address. He guessed on those for Blair, Daniel, and Teal'c, but figured they could be easily corrected since he knew their driver's license numbers were correct.

He was just finishing up when McKay burst into the office and tossed a pile of checks onto Zelenka's desk. "You know, it's entirely unprofessional of you to take out your sexual frustration on me and John."

John flushed and found a fascinating speck on one of his fingernails. Unfortunately, he couldn't block out his hearing.

"You are just jealous because I have sex more often than you," Zelenka said in a completely normal tone.

"What?" McKay yelped. "No! That's just -- I mean, just...no!"

John jumped to his feet. "Coffee?" he asked desperately.

"Yes," Zelenka said immediately. "Take him away before he says something he regrets."

McKay sputtered some more, and judging from his beet red face, the scientist was about ten seconds away from a stroke. John took him by the elbow and dragged him in the direction of the door.

Once they'd achieved the relative safety of the hallway, John turned McKay around and held his head steady with both hands. "Breathe, Rodney," he said, looking directly into McKay's wide blue eyes. "Breathe."

There was a long, painful hesitation before McKay drew in a shuddering breath.

John let out a sigh of relief and nodded encouragingly. "That's it, Rodney. Good, very good. Now again. Deep breath."

McKay opened his mouth and heaved in an enormous breath, his body shaking with the effort. "Perfect," John murmured. "That's perfect. Now hold it. Just hold it one more second. Yes, that's right. Now, let it out again, but slowly. Slowly. Good."

The next breath McKay managed without any prompting, and the furious red began to fade from his face. Soon his coloring was normal and John realized with a start that he was staring deep into his employer's eyes, his hands cupped around McKay's cheeks as if they were about to kiss.

John dropped his hands and stumbled back a few steps until his back hit the wall. "S-sorry," he stuttered.

McKay flinched and scowled impressively. "Don't apologize," he snapped, and if John didn't know better, he'd think McKay was angry.

They stared at each other through a long awkward silence. Finally John asked tentatively, "So, uh, coffee?"

McKay blinked. "You still want to get coffee with me?" His voice was cautious, but oddly hopefully.

"Well, yeah," John said, trying to cover his confusion. "If you want to."

McKay suddenly smiled, lighting up his whole face. "I do."

"Great," John said, straightening up off the wall and taking a couple of eager steps away from Zelenka's office. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They went to Starbucks again, of course, though John decided it couldn't hurt to come by some afternoon to scout the area for alternatives. Aiden was adamant in his belief that Walmart and Starbucks were direct manifestations of evil and anyone who shopped there was guilty of gross consumerism. John suspected that Aiden would change his tune once he moved out of the Sheppard family home and started having to pay rent every month; till then, John tried to avoid bringing home anything in a Walmart bag and he made sure there were no empty Starbucks cups in his car.

McKay ordered his usual drink, though this time he substituted a shot of raspberry syrup for one of the shots of chocolate. John added Miko's Chocolate Raspberry Mousse to the list of potential Pegasus Lab desserts.

Once they were comfortably seated in the same chairs as last week, McKay said, "I got a call from First National Bank yesterday." John froze, his coffee halfway to his mouth. McKay continued as if he hadn't noticed. "They asked me quite a few questions about Pegasus's dealings with Atlantis Catering. I told them that we were a client of yours and to call you for the details."

John carefully lowered his coffee cup back to the table without drinking. "Thanks."

McKay turned in his seat to face John. "What's going on, John? Are you in some sort of trouble financially?"

"No, nothing like that," John said quickly. "The loan isn't for me. I'm just cosigning it for Teyla and Ronon." McKay stared at him expectantly. John sighed and explained, "They're starting their own business."

McKay frowned. "What kind of business?"

"Personal protection," John said proudly.

McKay rolled his eyes. "So, basically, they want to be bodyguards." John grimaced, but nodded. "Do they have any clients?"

"Uh, no," John said. "The loan just came though. They haven't even gotten an office yet."

McKay looked appalled. "You cosigned a loan for two bodyguards who don't even have any potential clients? Who have a background as _waiters_? Are you brain damaged? Did your mom drop you on your head as a baby? Why not just throw your money into the nearest fire and save yourself the paperwork?"

By the end of McKay's little tirade, John's temper was boiling. "For your information," John snarled. "Ronon and Teyla are going to be fantastic bodyguards. It's something they've wanted to do their entire lives, and if all I have to do to help them fulfill that dream is cosign a loan, then I'm more than happy to do it."

"But why?" McKay said, sounding truly baffled. "Why would you risk your business for something that will in all likelihood prove to be an enormous failure?"

"Because they're my family," John said simply.

That seemed to throw McKay for a loop and for a few minutes he just sat there, silently drinking his coffee. John's anger burned itself out a minute in and then he found the silence awkward and painful, pressing uncomfortably against his skin. He wondered if there was any way he could leave now, even though he had been the one who'd brought the coffee in the first place.

When McKay spoke again, it was without warning, continuing the conversation as if it hadn't stopped. "But most of your employees are your family, too. If the bodyguard business fails and takes down Atlantis as well, then all of your family will be unemployed. It doesn't make sense to risk everyone just for the sake of a couple."

John thought about what McKay had told him about his own family: the fights, the neglect, the emotional and verbal abuse. "Sometimes family isn't logical," John said gently, trying to make McKay understand, but knowing it was a lost cause. "Sometimes you have to sacrifice part of yourself so that someone you love is happy."

"What about Miko?" McKay asked. "Or the main chef, the one who makes the meatballs?"

"Jonas," John said, a little annoyed. "His name is Jonas. And he's not part of the family. As for Miko, she'd understand."

"She would?" McKay asked, sounding doubtful.

"She would," John said firmly. "Her dream was to go to graduate school. Teyla and Ronon helped make that possible."

McKay frowned again and drained his cup of coffee. He stared at the empty cup. "You know, I don't think I like the raspberry syrup."

John took Chocolate Raspberry Mousse off the list.

"Maybe something in the nut family," McKay muttered as he pushed himself out of his chair and headed for the counter. John took a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee and wondered whether there was any point to tracking down a Starbucks alternative.

McKay came back with a cup that smelled distinctly hazelnut-like and a second cup that he passed to John. "Thanks," John said, startled, but taking the cup. Plain coffee, black, scalding. Perfect.

"I figured yours was getting cold," McKay said with a shrug. He settled into his seat and started working on his coffee. This time the silence was more comfortable, and John considered the best method for scouting coffee shops. Maybe he could get Miko to go with him. She always seemed to know the best place to get anything.

"Master's or doctorate?" McKay suddenly asked.

John shook his head. He was starting to suspect McKay had Tourette's. It would certainly explain a lot. "What?"

"Your sister. You said she was going to graduate school. I was just wondering--"

"Doctorate," John cut in. "She's working on her PhD in astrophysics."

"Really? That's my field. Well. One of them." McKay took a gulp of coffee, looking thoughtful. "Where does she go to school?"

They spent the next few hours talking about Miko and astrophysics and the trials of graduate school. John paid close attention, because Miko never talked much about school and he never knew whether to be worried or to trust that everything was okay. McKay's graduate school stories were pretty terrifying, but then he had worked on two doctorates at once and was, well, McKay. At least Miko had social skills, and John knew Teyla had given both Miko and Laura self-defense lessons.

Once again they stayed till closing and, despite a full bladder brought on by one too many cups of coffee, John felt a goofy smile take over his face all the way home.

ooo

The Thanksgiving party was not held at the Hilton. John still wasn't sure how she'd managed it, but Heightmeyer had discovered a venue that was not only unclaimed this late in the year, but also willing to let an outside company cater the event, despite having an in-house catering staff. The Sagebrush Grove Country Club had opened just a couple of months before, and while the golfing side of the business had taken off, the catering and reception half were still trying to build a reputation. John blamed the crappy name.

Based on some of the comments John heard while helping with the set-up, Heightmeyer had not only driven a hard bargain to get this place, but she also booked it for the next year or two. The Hilton was looking better with each passing minute, though the SGCC staff was at least refraining from any obvious sabotage. Ronon and Teal'c's hulking presences probably helped.

Half an hour before the reception was scheduled to begin, John caught himself sneaking glances at the door. McKay hadn't said when he was going to arrive, but John was hoping the personally selected appetizers might entice the scientist into coming out early. He'd had Miko prep a variety of the treats, just in case.

Apparently John had miscalculated, however, because McKay didn't show up early or even on time. In fact, the first representative of Pegasus Labs to enter the SGCC's reception room was Dr. Radek Zelenka. At the first glimpse of fly-away hair, John ducked behind Ronon and did his best to imitate a shadow. It didn't do much good; Zelenka still found him. "Ah, Sheppard."

John stepped away from Ronon and plastered on his best 'I do like you, no, really, I do' smile. "Dr. Zelenka. How're you doing today?"

"Better, now that I know you are not a Genii spy," Zelenka said. He held out a business card. "To save time in the future, please e-mail the information for any new employees. I will run a background check."

John took the card by the corner and tried to appear like he wasn't horribly offended. "Sure. Thanks." He cleared his throat. "So, uh, where's Dr. McKay?"

"Trying on his tuxedos, no doubt," Zelenka said with a shrug. "I have heard we are having a very special guest tonight, and--"

His voice cut off as McKay burst into the room and headed straight for them. "Well?" he asked breathlessly. "Is she here yet?"

"No," Zelenka answered, sounding both amused and annoyed. He said something else, but John was distracted by what McKay was wearing. The tux itself was all right -- simply cut and a deep black that suited McKay's large frame. Unfortunately, the clean lines were bisected by a cummerbund. An _orange_ cummerbund. And a _bow tie_. There were some people who could pull off a cummerbund and bow tie at a semi-formal event, but McKay was not one of them. And even a world-class model would have had a hard time wearing that shade of orange: John was pretty sure it was the color hunters used to avoid getting shot at in the woods. It made McKay look like a pumpkin. A pumpkin with an orange boutonniere.

Then Zelenka and McKay's words started to sink in. "Who's 'she'?" John asked, only belatedly realizing how abrupt he probably sounded. McKay and Zelenka looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "The woman who's coming tonight. The special guest." He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping against hope that the woman causing all of this excitement was Senator Weir. Or maybe Vala. Some woman he knew McKay wasn't actually interested in.

"Dr. Samantha Carter," McKay said, his whole face glowing with excitement.

"Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter," Zelenka said at the same time.

_Damn_. John frowned. "Is she a doctor or a lieutenant colonel?"

McKay sighed dreamily. "Both." Suddenly his face lit up and he started waving frantically toward the door. "Dr. Carter," he called out. "Over here!"

John turned just in time to see Carter's panicked expression shift into one of resignation. _Good_, he thought meanly. Immediately he felt guilty. Whatever his feelings for Rodney McKay, nothing could change the scientist's sexual orientation. If John wanted to remain friends with the scientist, he was going to have to accept the fact that that was all they were going to be: friends.

With that thought firmly at the front of his mind, John held his hand out to the approaching woman. She was tall and blonde and her low-cut blue gown showed off an extraordinary figure. "Hello, Dr. Carter," he said in his smoothest tone, the one he used to cover up intense dislike. "I'm John Sheppard." He added a self-deprecating grin. "The caterer."

Carter took his hand with a genuine smile. "John Sheppard, of course. I've heard great things."

"Really?" John asked, his smile coming much more easily as he wondered who had been talking about him. He wanted to press for details, but that would be rude, so he simply added, "I hope you won't be disappointed."

"Not possible," she said sincerely.

John was on the verge of liking this woman despite himself, when McKay less than subtly pushed him aside. "Dr. Carter," McKay said warmly. "You look fantastic."

Carter's smile disappeared as if cut off by a knife. "Dr. McKay," she said coolly. "It's been a while."

McKay didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the cold reception. "Too long," he said happily. "I thought tonight we could go somewhere and catch up."

Carter's panicked look was starting to return. "We can't leave," she said. "It's your party."

McKay waved that away with a flick of his wrist. "It's just an orgy of sycophantism," he said blithely. "Radek can do that without me."

Carter turned to Zelenka. "And what are you lobbying for this time?" she asked him, with considerably more warmth than she had given McKay.

"The Air Force deep space telemetry contract," McKay said, as if she'd been speaking to him. Carter paled. McKay added obliviously, "That's your project, right?"

John couldn't take it any more. "Dr. McKay, can I borrow you for a second?" He smiled at Zelenka and an obviously relieved Carter before grabbing McKay by the elbow and dragging him away to the kitchen.

As soon as they made it through the swinging doors, McKay dug his heels in. "What did you do that for?" he asked pissily. "I was working the moment. She was just about to give in, I could tell."

John thought about telling McKay that he was working himself into a restraining order, but decided that that would be too blunt. Instead, he said: "You know women don't find stalking to be particularly attractive." Okay, maybe he was going to be blunt anyway.

"That wasn't stalking," McKay said, sounding offended. "That was persistence. Women like that."

"Right," John said doubtfully. "And you know that from personal experience?"

McKay crossed his arms. "Romantic comedies."

"Romantic comedies?" John repeated incredulously.

"What? Women like romantic comedies." McKay scowled. "They think they're romantic."

John bit his lip. Once he was sure he could speak without laughing, he said, "Maybe it's the bow tie, then."

McKay's frown turned uncertain. "What's wrong with my bow tie?"

"It's orange."

"Yes," McKay said slowly, as if speaking to an idiot. "It's Thanksgiving. Orange is a seasonally appropriate color."

"It may be appropriate to the season, but that doesn't mean it's appropriate for clothing." Not letting himself think too much about what he was doing, John reached out and quickly undid Rodney's bow tie. With a snap of his wrist, he pulled it out of Rodney's collar, and then figured 'what the hell' and undid the top button of the shirt.

His hands shaking slightly, John stepped back and tried to ignore McKay's speculative, uncertain gaze. "Much better," he said, keeping his eyes focused on McKay's neck. "Now about the cummerbund."

By the time John let McKay out of the kitchen, both the bowtie and cummerbund were long gone, and the orange carnation from Rodney's buttonhole was gracing a plate full of sliced turkey. The open collar of the shirt offered a teasing glimpse of chest hair and gave the entire outfit a rakish appearance. John figured Carter had to be an idiot if she turned down McKay looking like that.

Fortunately, Carter apparently was an idiot, because she spent most of the evening avoiding Rodney. John performed his hosting duties, passed out a lot of Atlantis Catering business cards, and surreptitiously watched as Rodney got shot down again and again. At first he thrilled at the obvious fact that McKay wasn't going to be getting any that night, but as the evening progressed and Rodney's posture began to droop, John started feeling bad for his friend. Rejection was hard, and Rodney was getting more than his fair share of it that evening.

After a few awkward minutes of adjustment at the beginning of dinner, the family style dining turned out to be a big hit. Not only did it allow people to take only those dishes they actually wanted to eat -- and to allow them to control their own portion size -- but it also meant that no one had to wait half an hour for their food to be served. By the time John, Lorne, Blair, and Daniel came around with desserts, the diners had gotten into the informal spirit of the affair and had stacked their dirty dishes to make them easier to collect. Teal'c and Ronon cleaned up in record time.

As John checked in on the kitchen mid-dinner, he found Teyla hovering over a small computer. She and Ronon had agreed to help out tonight, but between the low demands of the family style dining and the surfeit of waiters, neither of them was strictly necessary. John had offered to send them home, but they had chosen to stay and, as John caught a glimpse of the computer screen, he could see why. "Please tell me you haven't bugged the guests," he said with a sigh.

"Of course not," Teyla said sharply, not turning away from the blinking dots moving around the screen. "Just the waiters."

John nodded slowly. "And...why, exactly?"

"We're testing the tracking devices Aiden built," she said. Aiden had always been good at electronics. He was the one who built the detonators for the high explosives Laura whipped up in her home lab.

"Huh." John leaned in more closely. "They seem to be working."

"The hardware is fine," Teyla said. "Unfortunately the software is not sufficient for our needs." She sighed. "I believe we will have to find a computer programmer."

John thought for a moment, but he couldn't think of anyone off the top of his head who was good at programming. It was one of the few skills that couldn't be found within the Sheppard family circle. "I'll ask around," he promised. "I'm sure there's someone local who will do good work for cheap."

Teyla smiled at him. "Thank you, John."

"No problem, sis."

By the end of dinner, Teyla and Ronon had done all the testing they needed to do and since they weren't really needed, they left. Shortly thereafter, Miko and Jonas left as well. Teal'c and Blair took over dishwashing, while Daniel and Lorne handled drinks and treats. John went back to playing host.

Hosting wasn't a tough job with such a small crowd, and by the end of the night John was on friendly terms with just about everyone there. He still found Kavanagh irritating and he tried to give Kinsey and Cowen a wide berth, but otherwise the evening went smoothly and was rather enjoyable. The fact that Carter left early just made everything better.

As the musicians put away their instruments and people started to wander in the direction of the exit, John noticed McKay and Zelenka having a very intense conversation with Senator Weir. John was wondering if he could get away with joining the conversation when a familiar bald head interrupted his line of sight. "Mr. Luthor," he said, refocusing his vision on the billionaire in front of him.

"Please," Luthor said smoothly. "Call me Lex."

"Lex, then." They shook hands. John couldn't help but note that Luthor simply radiated sex and he had to clear his throat before he asked, "Did you have a good evening?"

"Very much so," Luthor answered. "Especially that intriguing style of serving dinner. I was wondering how busy your schedule is over the next few months. LuthorCorp LA is having a few affairs that will require a good caterer and I think you'd be just the person for the job. My father will get a real kick out of serving himself."

Elation rushed through John's body and he had to struggle to keep his voice level as he answered, "We still have a few openings." He handed over a business card. "I'd be delighted to sit down with you or your assistant to discuss your catering needs."

"Excellent," Luthor said, taking the card. "Someone will be in touch with you on Monday."

John smiled and politely said his goodbyes, then rushed to the kitchen where he could celebrate in privacy. Lorne, Blair, Daniel, and Teal'c were busily packing up and storing their gear and all four of them looked up sharply when John let out a whoop of sheer joy. "Have a good night?" Lorne asked mildly.

"_Yes_," John said. "A great night. Thank you, guys, you all did a fantastic job." John took a deep breath. "In fact, why don't you all knock off early. I'll finish up here."

"You do seem to have some excess energy," Daniel said. "You know, in some cultures--"

John tuned him out and just smiled and nodded as Teal'c hustled Daniel to the door. Lorne and Blair followed soon after, leaving John alone in the kitchen. John grinned to himself and started humming as he began stacking champagne flutes into the dishwashing trays.

He looked up, startled, as the kitchen door burst open to reveal McKay. "We got the contract," McKay crowed.

"You did?" John said, coming over to grab Rodney in an impulsive hug. "That's great!"

"Well, nothing official or anything," McKay said, suddenly sounding bashful. "But Weir said she was going to vote for us, which means--" and here his grin returned "--we got the contract!"

John grinned and hugged Rodney again. "Hey," he said against McKay's ear. "Guess what -- we might get LuthorCorp's catering contract."

"That's wonderful!" McKay said, hugging John right back. "Congratulations!"

They hugged each other for several seconds before John realized that he was hard. And so was McKay. Simultaneously they let each other go and stumbled back a few steps.

"You're hard," McKay said abruptly.

John felt his face warm, but he forced himself to stay outwardly calm and relaxed. "So are you," he forced out of a dry throat.

McKay looked down as if to confirm that, yes, he was hard. "Yep," he agreed. "I am." He eyed John for a moment. "So..."

John tried not to fidget. "So?"

"Let's have sex," McKay said.

John gaped at him. "What?"

"I'm hard, you're hard," McKay said, waving his hands between their respective erections. "It's been a great evening. Let's have sex."

"Does that line ever work for you?" John asked in disbelief.

McKay looked thoughtful. "Actually, it's not really a line, per se, it's more of--"

John cut him off. "Besides, you're straight."

"I am not," McKay said hotly.

"You like women," John pointed out.

"So does Alan Cumming, but no one calls him straight!"

"You know who Alan Cumming is?" John asked in disbelief.

"I've _met_ Alan Cumming," McKay shot back.

That threw John for a second, but then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Have you ever even had sex with a man?"

"Yes," McKay said defiantly, crossing his arms and looking smug.

"How often?"

"More than once!" McKay shouted.

John figured that meant twice. Still, two was better than one: it meant that McKay had liked it enough the first time to try again. "So tell me, are you a top or a bottom?"

"Top," McKay said instantly.

_Damn_. John struggled to find something to say to cover his disappointment. McKay apparently misinterpreted his silence, however, because after a second his face fell and his arms dropped down to his sides. "Okay, okay," he said in defeated voice. "I'm a bottom."

John stared at him. "You don't even know if you're a top or a bottom?"

"I've only done that once, okay," McKay snapped. "And I was on the bottom."

"And?" John croaked out past a tight throat. "Did you like it?"

"No," McKay said, and he slumped against the countertop. "I didn't."

_Well, shit._ John sighed. "If you didn't like it, why are you propositioning me?"

"I'm attracted to you," McKay said simply and warmth spread through John's belly like honey. McKay looked up hopefully. "Are you a bottom?"

"I'm exclusively a top," John said automatically. He hadn't bottomed for anyone since Alex.

McKay's face fell. "Oh." He looked away for several seconds before visibly stiffening his spine. "Well, you could...you know...fuck me. If you wanted. Or, hey -- blowjobs!" He brightened on the last word.

John's cock brightened, too, but John had done enough thinking with his dick to know that it never worked out in the end. Right now it was time for his big brain to contribute to the conversation. "Look, Rodney...I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Rodney looked and sounded honestly baffled. God, John wanted to kiss him so bad.

With an effort he forced himself to stay put, mainly by gripping the edge of the counter behind him so tightly his knuckles hurt. "We work together," he said in answer to Rodney's question. "Worse, you're my employer."

Rodney stared at him. "Are you trying to say that I'm sexually harassing you? I can't be harassing you. You're hard!"

"But that doesn't mean I want to have sex!" John winced as he heard his own words. "Okay, okay, yes it does. But just because I want to have sex, doesn't mean I _have_ to. Men can choose to not listen to their dicks, you know."

"They can," Rodney said. "But why would they?"

John took a deep breath. Once he was sure he wouldn't say anything he would regret, he opened his mouth to speak. "Rodney. I like you. A lot. However, I do not want to have sex with you right now."

Rodney crossed his arms and chewed on his lower lip. His slightly slanted and absolutely adorable lower lip. John redirected his attention to the dirty dishes.

"Are you sure?" Rodney said finally.

_No!_ John's brain shouted. "Yes," he said out loud.

"Okay," Rodney said. "Okay. I'll just...go, then."

John nodded numbly and turned around to face the counter, randomly pushing dishes from one side to the other. When he turned back to the kitchen a few minutes later, Rodney was gone.

ooo

They lost Blair on Monday, when his financial aid finally came through. Two hours later Lorne produced Sam Winchester [6], another under-funded scholar, this time from Stanford. Sam Winchester was tall, even taller than Ronon, but thin as a whip, with unruly hair that made him look much younger than he actually was. After spending a few minutes mocking Lorne for his ability to pull waiters out of his ass, John sent Sam's information to Zelenka, at the same time thinking that it might be time to put together new hire paperwork that was more formal than a blank page in his little black book.

That afternoon, Lex Luthor personally called John to hire him for the upcoming LutherCorp Charity Concert. As with most Pegasus Lab events, there was to be a reception and a dinner for a select few of the total invitees, but once the concert started, John and his crew would be done for the night. Lex offered to pay double Atlantis's usual rate, due to the late notice, and the event was scheduled for a currently open weekend on Atlantis's events calendar. John was a happy man when he hung up the phone.

Tuesday, John got an e-mail from Zelenka in 20-point font, full of Czech phrases that John guessed weren't very polite. After reading through the attached files on Sam, Dean, and John Winchester, John pulled Sam aside for a little chat.

"I'm not in any danger," Sam said for the third time. "I _promise_."

"But the files..." John started.

"Look," Sam said with a sigh. "My brother and my dad...they're not like other families. They can't be, not if they're going to survive the life they lead, and yeah, maybe those differences don't look great on paper. But Dean and Dad, they're good people. They'd never, ever hurt me. Just the opposite, man. They'd kill for me."

"That's not very comforting," John pointed out.

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I get that."

They negotiated for a few minutes, and it was decided that, while Sam couldn't wait at Pegasus Labs events, he'd be able to work any others, and he'd help with prep and cleanup for every Atlantis job. Not a bad compromise, and one that was totally wasted as Sam was offered a work-study job the very next day.

"Maybe we should stick to actors," John suggested to Lorne.

"Yeah," Lorne said with a sigh. "Who knew academics were so damn flaky?"

Once the tablecloths had been laundered, dishes washed and carefully inspected for chips, and kitchen and prep area scrubbed until they gleamed, John gave his crew the rest of the week off. He offered anyone who came back on Monday half pay for the time they were gone, which was all he could afford. Hopefully, between the Pegasus and LuthorCorp gigs, next year he'd be able to offer regular vacation and sick days. Maybe even health insurance. He thrilled at the thought.

As soon as everyone cleared out early Wednesday afternoon, John, Teyla, and Ronon drove to the desert for a tour of the movie set Laura and Aiden were working on. Miko, Carson, and Jonas had also been invited, but Miko had classes, Carson had work, and Jonas had been horrified at the idea of voluntarily visiting a place where Laura and Aiden's destructive streak was given free reign. He'd never really forgiven Laura for blowing up the American Range stove that Jack had given them, and John couldn't really blame him. Industrial stoves were expensive and Jonas had had to use a crappy replacement stove for the last five years. Once the payroll stabilized, a new stove was the first thing on John's wish list.

As John double parked behind a tractor trailer overflowing with props, Ronon stuck his head between the two front seats and asked eagerly, "Do you think we'll get to meet Rod Johnson?"

"No hitting on Rod Johnson," John said immediately.

"But--"

"No!"

Ronon turned to Teyla, who was sitting shotgun, and gave her his version of the puppy dog eyes. John always found that expression rather terrifying, but Teyla simply said, "In a way, he is Laura and Aiden's supervisor."

"But--"

"We will do nothing to interfere with their employment," she added firmly.

Ronon flopped back into his seat and sulked.

They found Laura and Aiden at the edge of the set, standing next to a medium scale model of a city and chatting with a pretty blonde and a striking brunet with an extremely sexy Australian accent. John plastered on his come-hither smile. Teyla elbowed him sharply in the ribs. John dropped the smile.

The moment Aiden spotted them his face lit up and even Laura condescended to look somewhat pleased by their arrival. The blonde and brunet were introduced as Angie Ramirez and Rollie Tyler [7], respectively. John had never heard of them, but according to Aiden's gushing praise, Tyler was the best in the effects business. Ramirez was his assistant and apparently amazingly skilled at computer programming. Teyla raised her eyebrows at that and dragged Angie off for a little chat. At the same time, Ronon pulled Rollie aside to grill him about working with Rod Johnson. Aiden watched with an obvious air of abandonment, while Laura just seemed amused.

"Sorry," John said, patting Aiden's shoulder. "They're just, um, star struck. Or something." Laura snorted. John winced and quickly changed the subject. "So what's this?" He gestured at the model.

Aiden immediately perked up and he launched into a monologue about how explosives were filmed for big budget movies. Apparently the model was for long shots of a key explosion that would take place on the penthouse floor of a hotel. A second, larger model, would need to be built later for the close-ups. According to Aiden, the key to a good close-up of an explosion was to build the larger model out of materials appropriate to the structure being modeled. Something that crumbled nicely under a pressure wave. Concrete was good. So was glass.

When Aiden started to run out of steam, John took his opportunity to sneak in a question. "Did you guys build this?" he asked, gesturing to the model. "Because it's awesome."

"Thanks," a husky Australian voice answered. John tried not to wobble as he turned to find Rollie Tyler standing just behind him. "Angie and I did the modeling, while Aiden and Laura built the bombs." Aiden eagerly held up a pebble-sized block of plastique with a small microchip stuck on its side. "They do excellent work," Rollie added and Aiden beamed, while Laura flushed becomingly. Tyler didn't seem to notice.

John certainly noticed, however, and he immediately dialed down his natural instinct to flirt. It was one of his cardinal rules: never hit on someone his brothers or sisters were interested in. There were a couple of reasons for the rule. For one thing, it was tacky to try and edge out your own sibling. For another, it significantly lowered the chances of Laura blowing up his car.

The upside of not flirting was that John was able to focus his attention on the tour, which meant he was the only person who caught a glimpse of Rod Johnson hiding behind a trailer and furiously making out with a slender woman with bright blue eyes and curly black hair [8]. John sighed. Guess Rod wasn't gay after all. Thankfully Ronon missed the entire display.

ooo

On Thursday, John woke up with an inexplicable sense that something wonderful was going to happen. Unfortunately, he had no idea what that wonderful thing was, and after lounging about in bed for half an hour, he decided the only thing for it was to get up and see what the day may bring.

As it turned out, the day brought a long run on the beach, followed by lunch with Carson and the irritatingly likeable Dr. Beckett. No matter how hard John tried to keep his scowl, by the end of the meal he was laughing at the Scotsman's jokes and promising to visit the Napa Valley villa at the first available opportunity. Afterwards, John climbed into his car and silently admitted that he'd found someone even more charming than himself. It was a scary thought.

From the car, John called Miko and asked about good independent coffee houses near the science district. By the time she had finished rattling of a list of recommendations, including the strengths and weaknesses of each, he was pulling into the parking garage next to Pegasus Labs.

It was only after he closed his cell phone and stepped out of the car that it occurred to John that Rodney might not want to see him after last week's debacle. The thought was a surprisingly painful one and John's first reaction was to dismiss it. Why wouldn't Rodney want to see him? After all, John had a legitimate reason to stop by: they still had to plan the menu for the upcoming Christmas Extravaganza (John was getting tired to referring them all as balls), and John knew how much Rodney liked talking about food. Certainly more than he liked signing payroll checks.

Then again, the last time he and Rodney had spoken, John had turned down Rodney's offer of sex, something that John was still conflicted about, and if John was still having issues over it, he could only imagine how Rodney was reacting. Maybe it would be best for everyone if he just climbed back into his car and left.

And then what? Go home? Nothing appealing there, since Aiden spent most of his nights at Laura's these days and Miko was taking advantage of her time off to catch up on her lab work. Maybe he could stop by Carson's and let himself be charmed some more by the amazing Dr. Beckett or check in with Teyla and Ronon to be introduced to the latest addition to their threesome.

Right. John stiffened his spine and marched into the building.

Apparently Stackhouse was expecting him this time, because John got waylaid halfway to the elevators. "I'm just going up to see Dr. McKay," John said hopefully.

"Sorry, John," Stackhouse said, shaking his head. "Memo straight from Dr. Zelenka. No more visitors upstairs without an appointment."

_Well, fuck._ John considered calling Rodney on his cell phone to schedule an appointment on the spot, except that was kind of stupid and maybe a little juvenile. On the other hand... "Could you call up to Dr. McKay and see if he can come down?" he asked Stackhouse.

Stackhouse grinned. "I can do better than that. Follow me."

Baffled, John followed Stackhouse to the desk and, at Stackhouse's instruction, signed into the guest book. As soon as he did, Stackhouse handed over a lanyard with a plastic card attached. John flipped the card right side up and didn't know whether to be wildly pleased or incredibly annoyed when he found himself looking at a Pegasus Labs ID tag with his name and picture on it. In the end, he decided to be pleased. If nothing else, it meant that Rodney didn't mind John stopping in to visit.

"Where'd they get the picture from?" John asked Stackhouse.

"I find it's better not to ask those questions," Stackhouse said.

Deciding that Stackhouse probably had a point, John just lifted the lanyard over his head and nodded to the guard before heading for the elevator, his heart inexplicably beating double-time in his chest. _There's nothing to be nervous about,_ he told himself firmly as he rode the elevator up to Rodney's floor. It was probably a bad sign that he couldn't even convince himself that that was true.

Outside of Rodney's office, John stopped to take a deep breath before knocking once with shaking hands and opening the door without waiting for a reply. He found Rodney much the same as he usually did: sitting in front of his computer, a pile of checks on one corner of his desk. On closer inspection, however, the checks were already signed, and Rodney's computer monitor revealed something that looked suspiciously like Freecell before Rodney turned it off. Obviously Rodney had been waiting for John to come, and that realization filled John's chest with a warm, sweet ache.

"Want to get some coffee?" John asked, his voice a little rougher than usual.

"Sure," Rodney said, somehow managing to look both nervous and happy and worried, all at the same time. John wanted to hug him, but didn't.

At the sidewalk, Rodney turned toward the Starbucks, but John grabbed his elbow to turn him in the other direction. He shrugged when Rodney looked at him sharply and simply said, "Miko suggested a new place." He didn't let go of Rodney's elbow, however, until they reached the Daily Grind, and even then it was only so he could hold the door.

The high-school aged bistro didn't blink at Rodney's usual order and even tossed in a spoon dipped in Godiva chocolate to ensure rotten teeth in ten days or less. Rodney stirred the coffee with a deeply distracting look of pure lust and John figured the new place was a success.

Despite the potential for awkwardness, they easily slipped into conversation, John talking about Jonas's experimentation in exotic fruit desserts and Rodney animatedly retelling the latest Kavanagh misadventure. Neither one mentioned sex or Dr. Carter.

They closed down the coffee shop, despite the fact that it stayed open two hours later than Starbucks, and they were halfway to the garage when Rodney asked John if he could cater the Pegasus Labs's staff Christmas party. "Sorry for the late notice," he added. "Radek was planning on a pot luck, but it would be cruel and unusual punishment to make us all endure each other's company outside of work hours _and_ make us eat crappy food. At least this way some of the night will be salvageable."

"I don't know," John said doubtfully. "The fifteenth is a Thursday, right? We've got the LuthorCorp Concert that Saturday."

"It doesn't have to be anything elaborate," Rodney said hastily. "Just a buffet is fine. We'll provide the dishes, so all you have to do is bring the food, and I'll pay you your usual rate." John stared at him; this offer was awfully generous. "Please," Rodney added. "I can't take another year of being forced to decide between Simpson's non-fat squash slices or Zelenka's vegan borscht."

John laughed. "That does sound pretty awful."

"It is," Rodney said fervently. "And I'm sparing you the horrors of the accounting department's annual quest for the world's most disgusting food item. Last year someone brought chocolate-covered ants. _Ants_."

"Only in LA," John said sympathetically. They reached his car, but John found himself reluctant to get in and end the evening. "So what are you thinking for the menu?" he asked instead.

"Meatballs," Rodney said instantly.

John grinned. "We can do that. And maybe baked chicken with gravy? It's always a good choice for a buffet. Mashed potatoes and green beans on the side--"

"And potato filling," Rodney added.

"Definitely," John said with a fond smile. "Can't forget the potato filling."

They stared at each other for several long seconds before John turned to face his car door. "I should get going," he said, his breath coming hot and fast, fogging the glass of the window.

"Yes," Rodney said, "it's late."

John hesitated, waiting for something more. When Rodney didn't say anything, John opened his car door and climbed in.

Just before he shut the door, however, Rodney leaned down, holding the roof of the car for balance. "Next Thursday we can finalize the menu."

"Sure thing," John said, just barely managing to keep down a huge smile as elation bubbled in his chest. "I'll see you then."

ooo

Everyone came back to work on Monday, and Lorne even brought a friend. Hurley [9] was a big guy with a big personality and a tendency to say 'dude'. Thanks to Hollywood's well-known attitude towards larger people, there was a good chance Hurley would last longer than a week and John made a mental note to scrape together some cash so he could give Lorne a Christmas bonus for all of the HR work he was doing on the side.

Now more than ever they needed a fourth waiter, as this month promised to be insanely busy. Besides the LuthorCorp concert and the three Pegasus Labs events, Atlantis was scheduled to cater two art gallery openings, another sports banquet, and three corporate Christmas parties. Not only that, Jonas had signed up for Jack's annual Christmas Cookie Bake-Off, and Miko was making noises about participating as well. As John looked over his calendar for the next three weeks, he realized that even if Hurley stuck around for the whole month, they would still be short-handed. Hopefully Teyla and Ronon would be willing to take a break from setting up their business to help cover the gaps in manpower.

With all of the prep work and planning, the week flew by. Zelenka approved Hurley's employment and the new waiter was brought on board without a hitch. Daniel made an announcement that he was straight and asked that people stop calling him and Teal'c a cute couple. Ginny came in first at the K-9 Personal Protection Competition, thrilling Ronon and exasperating Carson. And, most importantly, Carson's paternity test came back and, to no one's surprise, proved that Dr. Beckett was indeed Carson's father.

Carson still wasn't decided on moving to Scotland, for which John was profoundly grateful, but Dr. Beckett wasn't giving up. When John heard that Carson and his dad went to visit Laura and Aiden on the movie set, he damn near threw a plate. Fortunately Miko was there to disarm him and send him out for ranch dressing.

Ronon and Teyla continued to work their way through the complicated business of becoming professional bodyguards. John dropped by their apartment on Tuesday to find their living room covered with weapons. Slack-jawed, he stared at the shotguns, rifles, pistols, hunting knives, machetes, and grenades -- _grenades_ -- before turning to Teyla. "Planning on invading a third world country this week?"

"Preparing for weapons certification," Teyla corrected as she efficiently stripped down a small submachine gun and began cleaning it. "For my concealed weapons permit."

"Huh," John said, because he couldn't think of a better response to his little sister packing enough heat to wipe out your average street gang. He turned to Ronon. "What about you, big guy? When's your certification?"

Ronon shot John a hurt glance before grabbing a handful of knives and storming out of the room. "What's wrong with him?" John asked, confused.

"He cannot carry weapons," Teyla said neutrally. John knew her well enough to know that that tone meant she was covering up a lot of painful emotion.

"Because of his background?" he asked gently. Teyla nodded.

After moving in with the Sheppards and before Teyla had straightened him out, Ronon had committed several petty crimes, and one or two of them had taken place after his eighteenth birthday. Coupled with a 'misunderstanding' between Ronon and one of Miko's boyfriends -- Darryl thought Miko should put out, and neither Miko nor Ronon agreed with him -- the crimes gave Ronon a record that would impact him for the rest of his life. It wasn't something that came up often, but every time it did, Ronon took it hard.

"Should I talk to him?" John offered.

Teyla shook her head. "He'll be fine. He just needs some time alone." She put aside the cleaned weapon and picked up a semiautomatic pistol.

"Okay." John leaned over the pile of weapons to kiss Teyla on the forehead. "I've got to get back to work. Good luck on the certification."

"Thank you, John."

"No problem, sis."

It was only after he had already left that John realized he'd forgotten to ask for Teyla and Ronon's help with catering in December. Of course, now probably wasn't the best time to ask. He'd save the question for when Teyla wasn't surrounded by guns.

Things got so crazy that week that John decided he'd have to call Rodney to cancel their...whatever they were calling their Thursday afternoon meetings. He was actually heading for the phone when Miko waylaid him to ask for light roasted whole bean Swiss chocolate almond coffee. He stared at her until she crossed her arms and added, "I believe the Daily Grind keeps it in stock."

Sometimes John was overwhelmed by how much he loved his family.

Despite his intention of coming home early, John stayed with Rodney until the Daily Grind closed. Only ten minutes of that time was actually spent on business. As John drove home that night, he decided he had been an idiot for turning down sex with Rodney.

Friday's gallery opening went well. They used the teal plate and cloths and got several positive comments on the unique coloring. Hurley was a surprising success with the ladies, and John ended up pulling him from dishwashing duty to help with the second round of hors d'oeuvers. Daniel was not pleased to be sent back to the kitchen. Teal'c was, as usual, stoic.

The following week was even busier, with both the Pegasus Labs Christmas party and the LutherCorp Charity Concert to prep for, not to mention the simple but time consuming preparations for a sports banquet on Friday. Ronon and Teyla came in to help and even Carson popped in for a few hours with his dad. John watched Dr. Beckett chop vegetables and gently flirt with Miko for as long as he could stand before hiding in his office and working out the next three weeks of staff schedules. He'd never been so on top of his paperwork in his life.

By Thursday John was grateful for the opportunity to focus on the one part of his job that he truly enjoyed: interacting with his clients. Leaving the rest of the crew to deal with the ongoing preparation for Friday and Saturday's gigs, John loaded up the van with food and headed for the dreaded Hilton. Apparently Heightmeyer had declined to be involved with something as lowly as a company Christmas party.

Setup for a buffet was a task that normally required two or three people, but John had nearly a decade of experience under his belt and he quickly and efficiently laid out the food and set the tables. By the time Pegasus Labs employees started to arrive, everything was ready to go. John stood tall and proud in his black uniform, his polite smile firmly in place -- at least until he saw what everyone was carrying. Tupperware containers, glass bowls, casserole dishes: every one of them chock full of food.

Rodney came in a few minutes later, empty-handed. John hurried over, too annoyed to be appeased even by the happy smile Rodney gave him. "What the hell's going on?" John hissed when he was close enough that only Rodney would hear him.

The scientist glanced around the room before leaning in to John, "I hope that's a rhetorical question."

"Rodney!" John snapped, a little more loudly than he had intended and attracting more than a few curious looks. Lowering his voice, John added, "Why is everyone carrying food?"

"Oh, that." Rodney looked relieved. "Apparently this whole pot luck business has traditional meaning or some such nonsense, so Radek refused to tell people they didn't need to bring anything. You're my contribution for the evening."

Somehow that sounded dirtier than Rodney had probably intended. "Well, as long as you don't expect people to eat _me_," John muttered.

"As if they were worthy," Rodney snorted, and that warm, gooey feeling filled up John's chest again.

The Christmas party wasn't bad, all things considered. No dancing on tables or other wild debauchery, unfortunately, but there was a small food fight and the gift exchange included a hand-knitted cock sock. John, who had somehow gotten roped into filling a plate of food for himself and sitting down at Rodney's table, leaned in to Rodney's side to murmur, "A cock sock?"

"Most of these people are Mensans," Rodney explained. "Which means they have no social skills and are obsessed with chocolate, alcohol, and sex. There's an orgy scheduled for later on this evening."

"Rodney is president of Pegasus Mensa club," Zelenka said from John's other side.

"There's nothing wrong with an obsession with chocolate and sex," Rodney said loftily. "Though I prefer coffee to alcohol."

John grinned and whispered in Rodney's ear, "Did I ever tell you that I passed the test to get into Mensa?" Rodney cleared his throat. John smirked and added, "What room's the orgy in?"

Rodney turned a lovely shade of red and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

At the end of the evening, Rodney stayed behind to help John clean up. "You don't have to do that," John protested as Rodney hauled a pan of leftover mashed potatoes to the kitchen. It was significantly fuller than the pan of leftover potato filling.

"It's not as if I have anything better to do," Rodney said with a shrug. "This time of year you're taking your life into your hands when you leave the house and even if you stay in you run the risk of being stalked by shrieking tone-deaf miscreants that won't go away until you bribe them with chocolate."

John frowned for a moment before he understood. "Oh. You mean carolers."

"That's what I just said."

John picked up the salad bowls, which were both nearly full. Next time he'd suggest just skipping the spring greens. "You could always go up for the orgy," he suggested, trying to sound casual.

Rodney snorted. "Please, you've met my coworkers. Why would I want to sleep with them? Besides, in my experience, orgies are overrated."

John realized he was gaping and closed his jaw with a snap. Once he was fairly sure he could speak without squeaking, he asked, "How many orgies have you participated in?"

"Just the one. It was a Mensa orgy. I got an elbow in the eye early on and nearly broke my wrist trying to get out of the pile. I've avoided group sex since then."

"Can't say I blame you," John said numbly. He was never looking at intellectuals the same way again.

They wrapped the food up in record time, despite the way Rodney kept picking at the leftovers. John just hoped it never occurred to Rodney that Jonas could probably be bought away from Atlantis with the promise of a good salary and a top-of-the-line industrial stove.

"So I'll see you next Thursday then?" John asked as he slid the last try into the van. Hopefully he sounded less eager than he felt.

"Actually, I'll probably see you on Saturday." John straightened sharply and found Rodney looking surprisingly bashful. "I'll be at the LuthorCorp concert."

"Really?" John said, feeling ridiculously pleased by the news.

"It shouldn't be too awful," Rodney said with obviously forced casualness. "Mandalay's an ass, but his first cellist is excellent and Shinto will be performing the flute solo. Not something you get to see often in LA."

"Right," John said, trying to act like he knew what the hell Rodney was talking about. "So, uh, I guess I'll see you in a couple of days."

Rodney smiled and jerked his head in an awkward nod. "See you then."

ooo

The sports banquet was predictably boring.

Until John had landed Pegasus, sports banquets had been Atlantis's bread and butter. They didn't pay particularly well, and high school athletes were among the most obnoxious people on Earth, but the school board always paid on time and the food was cheap. Hopefully it wouldn't be too long before John could afford to turn these down.

The LuthorCorp concert, on the other hand, promised to be very interesting. According to the society pages that Laura read and shamelessly regurgitated, the concert was _the_ place to be this weekend, and starlets were assaulting each other in the streets for invitations to the dinner beforehand. Presumably it was at one of these events that Rodney had met Alan Cumming. Now it would be John's chance to meet the stars.

As it turned out, the stars weren't all they were cracked up to be. By the official start time of the reception, the room was already packed and most of the crowd appeared to be high. Champagne was flowing like water but the food had barely been touched, and as John rescued yet another flute from the floor, he promised himself he was never catering another LutherCorp event again. So what if the pay was good? Right now sports banquets were looking pretty damn appealing.

"Having fun?"

John whirled around to see Rodney looking absolutely edible in a tux with a black bow tie. "Oh thank God," John said, gripping his legs to keep his arms from throwing themselves around Rodney of their own accord. "Please, eat something. If I bring all of these leftovers back, Jonas isn't going to speak to me for a month."

Rodney bounced lightly on his toes. "I live to serve. Where's the food?"

John allowed himself to place a hand in the small of Rodney's back as he led the scientist to the table. Moving past clusters of strung-out, skeletal teenagers, John whispered, "Are these things always like this?"

"It depends on whether Lex or Lionel planned it," Rodney answered absently as he picked his way through the appetizers. "Do any of these have citrus?"

John shook his head and pointed out some crab puffs he thought Rodney might like. "So who planned this one?"

Rodney popped a puff in his mouth and ran his eyes over the room, as if gauging the level of debauchery. "Lex. And I bet he's pissed off with Lionel [10] about something."

Lionel. Lex's dad. The guy with the fantastic head of hair. John processed that for a moment, a growing sense of dread filling his stomach. Just when he realized what the problem was, the tinkling sound of a spoon hitting a champagne flute filled the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to retire to the dining room." John glanced over to see Lex smiling smugly at his father. Oh, no, this was not good at all.

Not sure what, if anything, could be done to stave off the approaching nightmare, John escorted Rodney toward the dining room. They were halfway there when a familiar leather-clad hourglass draped herself over Rodney's shoulder. "Rodney," Vala cooed. "I'm surprised to see you here."

Rodney sighed. "Not tonight, Vala, I have a headache."

"I'm sure I could take care of that for you," Vala simpered.

Rodney grabbed John's arm and yanked him closer to his side. "Remember John? My date from the charity ball?"

John smiled winningly. Vala ignored him. "He's your caterer," she said flatly.

"Which puts him several points ahead of a hooker who's stalking me," Rodney shot back. "Now go away before I get a restraining order. Seduce Lionel, or whatever it is that Lex is paying you to do here."

"This game is losing its entertainment value," Vala said sourly as she stalked off in Lionel's direction. John just stared after her and wondered if the Sheppard clan was the last normal family in LA.

The expression on Lionel's face when he realized he was expected to serve himself probably would have been amusing if John hadn't been half-sick with worry. It didn't help that Lionel's initial shock quickly turned into a scowl that grew progressively blacker as the evening wore on. John did what damage control he could, waiting on Lionel's table himself and reassigning the waiters to suit each table's personalities. To Daniel's obvious disgust, Hurley got the table of supermodels and within minutes had the entire group fawning on him. Teal'c stoically endured a table of obnoxious producers, Lorne cheerfully flirted with everyone at Lex's table, and Daniel made do with a table of hopped-up starlets who were making goo-goo eyes at the producers. More champagne was drunk. Not much food was eaten.

Jonas and Miko went home as soon as the food was prepared and the waiters were busily topping off glasses in the dining room, so John was alone in the kitchen when Lionel threw the doors open and stalked in. "Mr. Luthor," John said, trying not to sound as startled as he felt.

"Mr....Sheppard, is it?"

"Yes, sir. Is there something I can help you with?" Despite himself, John found his eyes drifting upward, to the top of Lionel's head. The man really did have the most remarkable hair. No doubt there was a pun about a lion's mane in there somewhere, but John figured now wasn't the time for it.

"I certainly hope so," Lionel said silkily, the 'for your sake' implied. "Can you tell me what possessed my son to arrange such a bizarre dining experience for the evening?"

"Well, uh, I believe he tried it at the Pegasus Labs Thanksgiving dinner and enjoyed it."

"Ah yes, Rodney McKay's little venture." Lionel seemed amused and John's spine straightened in annoyance. Pegasus Labs was one of the most influential labs in the world and Lionel's disdain just showed that he... Lionel's voice cut off John's indignant mental tirade. "And who, pray tell, introduced Dr. McKay to the custom?"

"That would be me," John said huffily, his anger having completely overwhelmed his anxiety.

"I thought so," Lionel said, sounding satisfied. "It follows then, that the root of this evening's disaster lies in you."

John blinked. "What?"

"Yes," Lionel said, "it all makes sense now. No matter how annoyed Lex might be with me, such a breach of good taste would never occur to him. Clearly you influenced my weak-willed son into a very, very poor decision. I'll deal with him later. As for you, I hope you understand that I can't allow this interference to go unpunished. Certainly you'll never work in this city again, but maybe if you--"

A familiar and very welcome voice broke in. "Berating the staff, I see. Clearly a decade in Metropolis hasn't changed you much."

John, who was starting to feel sympathetic to the plight of a deer caught in headlights, jerked his attention away from Lionel to find Rodney standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"McKay," Lionel said with obvious distaste. "I see you're still indulging your gluttonous appetites. A good tailor can only do so much, you know."

Rodney flushed red, but answered with an even voice: "Drop the strong-arm act, Lionel. You may have that kind of clout in Metropolis, but in LA you're just a third-rate lab with delusions of grandeur. Atlantis is one of the most in-demand catering firms in Los Angeles. John's not going anywhere."

"Why, McKay, have you finally gotten yourself a pet?" Lionel asked. "How nice."

"Please," Rodney said, his voice full of withering scorn. "Don't project your twisted family dynamic on me. Go mentally warp your son or terrorize some elected officials. Leave me and John out of it."

Lionel looked taken aback. "Don't cross me, McKay."

"Whatever," Rodney said. He promptly turned his back on Lionel to ask John, "Do you have any more of that torte cake left?"

John stared at him wide-eyed. "S-sure."

"Great," Rodney said happily. "I've been thinking about that cake for weeks." There was a loud bang as the kitchen doors slammed open and Lionel left. Rodney didn't seem to notice, too caught up in the cake debate. "I think we should have that for Christmas. And New Year's Eve. And whatever nightmare Heightmeyer has scheduled for January."

Over Rodney's shoulder, John saw the kitchen doors open again, this time just enough for Lorne to pop his head through. "Everything all right in here?"

"Fine, Lorne," John said automatically. Without thinking about it, he added, "I've got to leave for a few minutes. You're in charge."

Lorne looked thrilled. "No problem. Take all the time you need." He popped back out again.

"John?" Rodney asked. "Are you all right?"

"No," John said, taking Rodney by the elbow and heading for the door. "But I will be."

Dragging Rodney by the arm, John stalked out of the dining room and into the maze of hallways surrounding the auditorium with one crystal clear goal in mind: privacy. He was so focused on his destination, in fact, that it took him a few minutes to register that Rodney was still speaking: "--sorry if you thought I was interfering, really I am, but I promise if you just let me go I won't do it again. I mean, I never took you for the neanderthal type, and I'd hate for this to be the one time I'm wrong, when--"

John found what appeared to be an abandoned dressing room and promptly pulled Rodney inside. Once the door was securely locked, John pushed Rodney against the wall and dropped to his knees.

"--really am a genius you -- um. John? What are you doing?"

John looked up with a grin, his hands already fumbling with Rodney's belt. "You're the genius, you figure it out." The belt finally gave way and it was a matter of seconds to unhook the pants and carefully lower the zipper.

"Oh, fuck," Rodney breathed. "John. Yes."

John's grin turned into a smirk as he reached into fractal-patterned boxers and pulled out Rodney's rapidly growing erection. The cock was thick and meaty and John's mouth watered as he leaned forward to lick the tip. Rodney groaned and John felt like he was flying.

Unfortunately, as much as John would like to draw this first time out, there was no way to know when someone would come back to reclaim this dressing room. With that in mind, John reached up with one hand to cover Rodney's mouth, wrapped his other hand around the base of Rodney's cock, and leaned forward to greedily suck Rodney's blood red cockhead into his mouth.

Rodney let out a mix between a yelp and a moan and clapped his hand over his mouth. John looked up and nodded in approval, taking back his own hand to grip Rodney's hip. Goaded on by Rodney's stifled grunts and by the look of sheer awe in Rodney's eyes, John took Rodney's cock fast and deep, teasing with his tongue as he went down and sucking hard as he moved back. It only took a few minutes before Rodney gasped and emptied himself deep in John's throat. John drank down everything Rodney had to offer.

Once Rodney was licked clean and tucked back into his pants, John eased the scientist down to the floor. "How was that?" he asked, though the dazed look on Rodney's face was promising.

"Oh. My. God."

John grinned.

After a moment, Rodney's unfocused eyes sharpened. "What about you?"

"I'm okay," John said.

Rodney looked down at the enormous tent in the front of John's pants. "I could be better," John admitted. "You were really hot."

"Really?" Rodney asked, sounding pleased.

"Scorchingly hot," John reassured him.

That must have been the right thing to say, because Rodney immediately began working at the fastenings to John's pants. The blowjob was quick and a little clumsy, but John had been waiting for this for weeks now and he came shamefully quickly. He sensed the hesitation before Rodney began to swallow and knew they were going to have to talk about this sometime very soon, but for now John was just happy to lie bonelessly on the floor, sated and content, with Rodney McKay at his side.

They stayed there much longer than John had planned, John propped up on the wall with Rodney lying next to him, his head in John's lap. John found himself feathering his fingers through Rodney's hair, loving the silky feel against his fingertips. Every once in a while, Rodney would turn his head slightly and nuzzle John's thigh. John loved that as well.

Of course, it was too good to last. Long before John felt ready to move -- though long after John should have gone back to the kitchen -- Rodney mumbled, "Did I mention that I have a bad back?"

John chuckled. "Nope, but I'm guessing the floor isn't doing it much good."

"I knew you were smarter than you looked."

Rodney sighed and pushed himself upright. Smothering a sigh of his own, John let his hand slide out of Rodney's hair, running it down Rodney's neck and shoulders before dropping it to the floor. A moment later, John heard what sounded like a small crash of metal and glanced at Rodney. "Crescendo," Rodney explained.

"The concert's started," John said stupidly.

"Please don't disappoint my recently raised expectations," Rodney said.

John barely heard him as he shoved himself to his feet. "Oh my God, the concert's _started_." He fumbled with the doorknob for a few seconds before he managed to disengage the lock. As soon as he was free, he started toward the kitchen at a near-run. If Rodney followed him, John didn't notice.

The first thing he saw after bursting through the kitchen doors was Lorne's smirk. The second thing he saw was that the kitchen was spotless. Every dish in its place and not a speck of food anywhere. "Oh shit, Lorne, I'm so sorry."

Lorne shrugged, still smirking. "Hey, I know how it is. Gotta keep the big clients happy."

John flushed, but there wasn't really anything he could say in his defense. Indiscretion was one thing, but he'd just sucked off his biggest employer. At a charity concert. That he was supposed to be _working_. "How long have you been waiting?" he asked instead.

"Not long," Lorne said easily. "But if everything's all right, I'll be heading out."

"Everything's fine," John said, lying through his teeth.

Lorne nodded and headed for the door. At the last minute, John remembered himself. "Lorne?" Lorne turned around, his eyebrows raised in question. "Good work tonight."

"Thanks," Lorne said with a smile that looked both startled and pleased. John made a mental note to give out a few more compliments to his crew.

After Lorne left John stood alone in the kitchen desperately trying to figure out his next step, because it was bad enough that he had just blown Rodney against the door of a dressing room, but then he went and left him there all alone after his (probably) third gay sexual encounter ever. Rodney was probably pissed at him. Hell, Rodney _should_ be pissed at him. John was pretty damn pissed at himself.

Just then the kitchen doors slowly creaked open and Rodney stepped inside. "John?" he asked tentatively.

Rodney's hair looked like a bird had nested in it, and John found he had a genuine smile in him after all. "Hey," he said gently. "Sorry about running away like that."

"It's okay," Rodney said quickly, though clearly it wasn't since he stood just inside the kitchen doors as if scared to come any closer.

John sighed. He'd spent weeks dreaming about sleeping with Rodney and now that it had finally happened he was fucking it up. As usual. "Look, Rodney--"

"Oh, God, don't finish that sentence."

John hesitated. "What sentence?"

Rodney slumped down against the doorframe. "The 'look, Rodney, that was great, but I don't think we should do it again' sentence," he said wearily.

John frowned, wondering exactly how often Rodney had heard _that_ sentence. "That's not what I was going to say."

Rodney's whole body perked up. "No?"

"No," John said patiently. "What I was going to say was: Look, Rodney, I'm sorry I ran out on you like that. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Rodney was silent for a long time, long enough that John was getting worried, in spite of Rodney's suspiciously damp eyes. Finally Rodney sniffed, and swiped a hand over his face. "Maybe...maybe we could get a cup of coffee?"

John smiled, his shoulders slumping in relief. "Yeah," he said. "I think that sounds like a great idea."

ooo

Lorne had taken the van when he left, which John chalked up to either a latent grudge or a very questionable sense of humor. It was hard to be angry, however, when it meant that he got to drive Rodney's Porsche prototype, which was so new it didn't even have a series number emblazoned on the trunk. "I can't believe you own this car," John said as he took another corner at five miles over any reasonably safe speed.

"Yes, well, everyone else in this overly-plasticized city is obviously overcompensating and they won't work with you unless they think you are as well. Also, Radek made me." Rodney gasped as John slammed on the brakes for an upcoming red light and his death grip on his seatbelt tightened even further. "Could you please slow down?" Rodney begged once the car reached a full stop.

"We're stopped," John pointed out. Rodney just stared back pitifully. John let out a put-upon sigh, but kept to the speed limit for the rest of the trip.

By the time they reached The Daily Grind -- Rodney had insisted -- John had fallen hopelessly in love with the Porsche and was trying to work out the technical aspects of marrying it and having its babies. He decided it would probably just be easier to marry Rodney and have an affair with the car.

They settled into their usual chairs, John with a plain black coffee and Rodney drooling over his cinnamon Sugar Shock. John gave Rodney a few minutes to satisfy his coffee lust before starting. "Rodney, about tonight--"

"I thought it was great, didn't you think it was great? I mean, I know you've got more experience when it comes to men, because you're gay while I'm bisexual -- though, technically, everyone is bisexual to some extent, despite what the outmoded social mores of the day may dictate, but that's beside the poi--_mmpf_."

John waited until he was sure Rodney's lips had stopped moving before he removed his hand. "I thought it was great," he confirmed and Rodney's face lit up in a brilliant smile.

"Really?" Rodney sounded hopefully and ridiculously young and John decided that the Porsche was just going to have to find someone else.

"Really," John said. "So great, in fact, that I'd like to do it again."

Rodney's smile was now so bright it could be seen from orbit. "Oh, me too. Definitely. Now?"

John grinned, but reluctantly shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rodney. I have to help prep for a Christmas party on Monday."

Rodney was obviously disappointed. John found that very flattering. "Oh. Tuesday?"

John sighed. "I can't. This week is absolutely crazy. We've got three corporate Christmas parties _and_ your Christmas ball. Which I really need the menu for, as soon as possible."

Rodney groaned. "Only Christmas is awful enough to suck the fun out of planning a menu. I hate the holidays."

"Oh, I don't know," John said, smirking behind his cup of coffee. "I'm pretty full of Christmas cheer at the moment."

In front of John's disbelieving eyes, Rodney actually _blushed_ at that statement, and promptly drained his cup in his usual indigestion-inducing fashion. When he came back with a refill, this one smelling like vanilla, he immediately changed the subject. "You pick the menu for Christmas. Heightmeyer will tell you exactly how many people will be there, but it's going to be too many to serve dinner like we did at Thanksgiving, so you'll have to limit the side dishes. And I'm getting a little tired of turkey, so if you could have another meat option I'd be very grateful."

Rodney attempted a leer at the end which was so endearingly awful that John had to take a gulp of coffee to keep himself from leaning over and kissing Rodney right there in the middle of the crowded coffee shop. If Rodney hadn't just committed the ultimate sacrilege and turned down turkey, John thought that he might have fallen a little bit in love.

John froze at the thought. In love? He couldn't be in love. John Sheppard _never_ fell in love. Not after... John jumped to his feet. "I've got to go. It's late, and I've already been gone longer than I should."

Rodney stood up as well, looking confused. "Oh. Uh, okay. I, um, I have work, too. Radek and I are clearing out as many of our outstanding projects as we can so we have room for the deep space telemetry project. We got the official word on Friday. Work starts at the first of the year."

A week ago, a day ago, hell, even five minutes ago, John would have pulled Rodney into a tight hug and suggested one more cup of coffee to celebrate, lateness of the hour be damned. Now, however, he just smiled tightly and held out his hand. "Congratulations, Rodney," he said, knowing he was being an asshole, but helpless to do anything about it. "That's good news."

Rodney stared at John's hand for several long seconds before taking it in a firm, quick handshake. "Thanks, John," he said, obviously trying to hide his hurt and doing a piss-poor job of it. "That means a lot to me."

John's smile grew even tighter, till it felt more like a grimace. "Well, I'll call you."

"Right," Rodney said, nodding unhappily, obviously not believing a word.

John didn't blame him. He didn't believe it either.

ooo

They lost Hurley the next day: an up-and-coming TV producer had apparently seen him at the concert and wanted to snatch him up before anyone else got him. Hurley didn't have much information about the pilot he was going to be in, just that it was about survivors of a plane crash living on an island. John thought it sounded kind of depressing, but at least it was somewhat realistic. He figured it might last a year, with middling ratings.

Less than an hour later, a tall, slender brunette walked in. She was attractive, in a mannish sort of way, but her unconscious grace and athleticism made her beautiful. Daniel obviously noticed her, but she blew right past him on her way to John's office. If John hadn't been feeling so depressed, he probably would have been amused by Daniel's resigned air. As it was, he just faked a smile for the new arrival, and waved her into his office.

"I'm Sydney Bristow [11]," she said, thrusting out her hand for John to shake. "Hurley said you might be hiring."

Sydney was a grad student (_another one_, John thought with resignation) looking for a little cash while she worked on her doctorate in English Literature. She didn't have any waiting experience, but she proved she could carry a tray full of drinks, and this wasn't the week for John to be picky. He sent her information to Zelenka, threw an apron on her, and gave her to Jonas.

The next day was madness. Sydney showed up long enough to quit; apparently she'd just been recruited by a bank. It didn't make much sense to John, but he was too busy to care. A couple of hours later, before Lorne even had a chance to start calling around for yet another waiter, Dave Rygalski [12] showed up looking for work. He was a musician, which they hadn't tried yet, so John hired him, gave him an apron, and sent Dave's information to Zelenka with his fingers crossed. He also sent Lorne out on a fact-finding mission, because in John's experience, prospective waiters did not just start showing up out of the blue.

Ronon and Teyla came in an hour later to announce that they had just booked their very first bodyguarding gig: at the personal recommendation of Rollie Tyler (probably on the behalf of Angie Ramirez), Rod Johnson had hired Ronon and Teyla to guard him while at this year's Pegasus Labs Christmas ball. John shook his head, unable to decide if this was a sign that the universe hated him or loved him.

Zelenka wrote back to say that Sydney (_too late_, John thought sourly) and Dave both checked out. "I am concerned by your high employee turnover," the e-mail added. "Even Rodney does not lose so many employees. Perhaps we can loan you Dr. Kavanagh?"

John wrote back to tell him, in the politest way possible, "Hell, no."

Zelenka's e-mail also requested 20 gallons of fruit punch and 600 cookies, in addition to the drinks and dessert already being served. Either Zelenka really liked cookies, or Rodney was planning a very elaborate revenge. John really hoped it was the former.

Lorne came back around lunch with the news that Atlantis Catering had gained a reputation as being a lucky employer. Not a _good_ employer, mind you, but a _lucky_ one. Word on the street was that anyone who got a job at Atlantis was guaranteed to break into the business within a week.

"But you haven't broken into the business," John pointed out to Lorne.

"They're actors," Lorne said. "They're working minimum wage jobs in one of the most expensive cities in the country on the one-in-a-million chance that they might get in front of a camera. I don't think logic is their strong suit."

John blinked. "But you're an actor."

Lorne looked offended. "I'm a _waiter_."

"Oh."

With such a large cookie order on top of everything else that week, they had to bring in Carson and, consequently, Carson's dad. Dr. Beckett was only going to be in the country till the day after Christmas and he and Carson were practically joined at the hip. Fortunately, a lack of space in the Sheppard kitchen meant that Carson did most of his baking at home. John sent Ronon and Teyla over to help, primarily because even Dr. Beckett couldn't be foolish enough to flirt with Teyla, at least not when Ronon was right there next to her.

The Christmas party that night went well enough, though Dave spent a lot of time complaining about being stuck in the kitchen washing dishes. He also spent a lot of time complaining about cleaning up and having to stay late to pack the van. John kind of hoped he found another job soon.

The next day was as crazy as the last and the next day even crazier, which was why John didn't realize the flaw in the whole 'avoid Rodney' plan until Thursday morning, when he remembered that not only was Rodney possibly expecting to see him that night, but he was going to have to see Rodney on Saturday. He spent most of the morning calling himself an idiot. At this point, he was fairly confident no one would disagree.

He finally broke down at noon, and called Pegasus Labs. For the first time since he started working with Sora, no one was willing to take his call. In the end, John was forced to leave a message on Rodney's voicemail, one which he was fairly sure Rodney wouldn't get in time. He decided to send an e-mail as well, just in case, explaining that he wouldn't be able to meet for coffee that night (yet another corporate Christmas party), but that he was looking forward to seeing Rodney on Saturday.

The e-mail was a lie. John wasn't looking forward to seeing Rodney. In fact, the sheer prospect of their meeting filled him with terror.

It wasn't just that Rodney was angry with him and would now be armed with massive amounts of fruit juice and cookies to...well, John couldn't think of a form of punishment that would involve juice and cookies, but Rodney was a lot smarter than he was. No, the problem was that, _despite_ the fact that Rodney was now armed with juice and cookies, John still wanted to see him. Desperately wanted to see him. Wanted to kiss him and hold him and...and love him. And that was fucking terrifying.

John tried to explain the problem to his family, but didn't get much sympathy. His sisters all agreed that John was being an ass about the entire situation, though Teyla, at least, recognized that John's history explained his behavior, though it didn't make it acceptable. Of John's brothers, Ronon agreed with the women, Aiden totally understood why John wouldn't want to stick with one person (John privately thought Aiden missed the point), and Carson continued to be the gayest straight man ever by insisting that love would conquer all in the end. Dr. Beckett, who of course had heard about the whole mess, was impressed that there was someone actually willing to deal with Rodney on a regular basis. "You're a better man than I, lad," he said, patting John on the cheek. John didn't deck him in reply, but it was a close thing.

By the time Saturday rolled around, John was a mess. He spent nearly an hour deciding between the classic black and white Atlantis uniform or the new, all-black ensemble and felt like an idiot when Miko knocked on the door to tell him he was running late. He finally picked all-black and jerked the clothes on quickly, no doubt wrinkling them in the process. It was just that kind of day.

He was at the ball for less than five seconds before he realized what the juice and cookies were for and it was worse than he ever could have imagined. "Holy shit," he heard Lorne breathe over his shoulder as they looked out into the reception room to see at least a hundred screaming, hyperactive, and completely overdressed children running wild. "Did you know about this?"

John shook his head numbly. No, he had certainly _not_ known about this. If he had...well, he couldn't honestly say that he wouldn't have pursued Pegasus Labs just because of one child-ridden event, but he certainly would have considered it a negative factor to take into consideration. In John's mind, one of the best aspects of being gay was the fact that no one expected him to reproduce.

"This is going to be a long night," Daniel said over John's other shoulder. John nodded in agreement.

"Ooo, kids!" said Dave.

Unsure of the best way to handle this situation, John had his waiters put out the juice and cookies on a long table on one side of the room. The adult hors d'oeuvers were put on a separate table on the opposite side of the room. As soon as the food was put out, the cookie table was mobbed and in the resulting open space, John caught his first glimpse of Rodney.

The scientist was dressed in a classic tux with white shirt, but instead of wearing a bowtie he had the first two buttons of the shirt open, revealing a glimpse of white skin and just a hint of hair. John's mouth went dry and his groin tightened. This was going to be a _long_ night.

In a twist of fate that was highly amusing to everyone except for Rodney and John, Rodney's extreme aversion to kids was only matched by the kid's extreme attraction to him. Despite the fact that he wasn't the one wearing the Santa costume (that honor went to Zelenka), Rodney seemed to spend most of his time in the reception room running away from hoards of children. By the time John had worked up enough courage to speak to Rodney, the scientist had disappeared entirely.

Unsure of what to do at this point, John went to Zelenka. "Hi, Radek," he said nervously, garnering an odd look from one of the kids who had given up on Rodney and was now settling for the guy in the padded red Santa suit.

"You will refer to me as Santa or Mr. Claus," Zelenka said imperiously.

"Uh, okay. Hi, Santa."

"Hello, John Sheppard," Zelenka said. "You have been a very bad boy this year."

John blinked, but decided Zelenka hadn't actually meant to sound like bad holiday-themed porn. Hopefully. "Have you seen Rodney?"

Zelenka glowered at John. It was a scary expression coming from Santa. "Why do you care where Rodney is?

John grimaced, but he completely and totally deserved anything Rodney's friends wanted to dish out. "I want to apologize."

"So you can treat him badly again?" Zelenka said. "So you can play games with his minds? Raise his hopes and then crush them, time and again."

"_No_," John said, horrified. "No, I never meant to do that."

"Whatever your intention, you have done it." Zelenka crossed his arms. "How do I know you will not repeat the error?"

That was a good question. A damn good question. John would like to know the answer to that himself. "I don't know," he admitted. "Honestly, Rad--uh, Santa, I'm really sorry about how I've been with Rodney. I do like him, a lot. But shi--uh, stuff keeps coming up and I keep reacting badly, and I don't want to fu--mess this up. He really is a great guy, kind of weird, but smart and funny and I really want a chance to make things right."

Zelenka smirked. "I think you do not spend much time with children."

"Not if I can help it," John said ruefully, and if the comment was pointed, well who could blame him?

"Just like Rodney," Zelenka said. "When we used the Hilton, he would reserve a room so that he could escape. Here I am not sure of his plan, but I do know that he is not a golfer."

John considered that for a moment and decided that it meant Rodney was still somewhere in the clubhouse. "Thanks, Ra--Santa."

"Thank me by being good to Rodney," Zelenka answered. "And do not forget that I know how to build a thermonuclear weapon, and I know where you live."

John shook his head and wondered at his life: how many other people in the world could say that they'd been threatened with nuclear immolation by a short Czech yenta dressed like Santa Clause? Only in LA.

Once he'd escaped the reception room, however, John turned his mind to more important matters, like what he was going to say to Rodney when he finally found him. Obviously "I'm sorry," would make an appearance, but there was only so many times that John could fuck up and be forgiven with a simple apology and John suspected he had already reached that limit.

Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way. Maybe, instead of trying to find new ways to apologize for his mistakes, John should just stop fucking up. Which meant figuring out _why_ he kept fucking up.

Christ, John hated introspection.

But he might just love Rodney.

Fuck.

Okay, then, why did he keep fucking this up? What was so wrong with him that he couldn't stand to let Rodney get close to him without freaking out?

Looking back over the last few weeks, John realized that what he'd said to Zelenka was true. Virtually every significant interaction with Rodney had been a matter of reaction, rather than action. Instead of making a decision about what he wanted their relationship to be, John had been letting events force him deeper and deeper into something that he was pretty sure he wanted, but not like this, not so out of control, not without having time to find his footing before the next big crisis pushed him forward again.

So, before he went any further, maybe he should figure out exactly what it was he wanted from Rodney. Did he just want a quick fuck? Maybe something longer, but still casual? Or did he actually want a real relationship, something that might possibly end up permanent?

Obviously John didn't want the first of those options. Rodney was too high maintenance for a one-night stand and, besides, now that John had been with him once, he knew it wasn't going to be enough.

Which raised the question of what would be enough. Casual sex? Did he want to be Rodney's fuck buddy? They could keep hanging out, continue to be business associates, enjoy all the benefits of friendship and sex, all without the constraints of commitment. John wouldn't be limited to Rodney then; he could see other people.

Then again, so could Rodney, and the idea of Rodney in bed with someone else caused John's stomach to churn.

Commitment, then. Permanence. A real relationship. Not something John had a whole lot of experience in, and the experience he did have had ended badly. Even now, the thought of deliberately entering into a serious, long-term relationship made John's palms sweat and his heart pound unevenly in his chest. It was a risk, a huge risk, putting his heart into someone else's hands. His trust had been betrayed once before, and his heart was still limping along nearly a decade later. John didn't think he could stand another heart break.

But Rodney wasn't Alex. Rodney _was not_ Alex. Rodney wouldn't use John up and spit him back out. Rodney wouldn't ask John to sacrifice his family...would he?

John ducked into an alcove and leaned back against a wall, allowing his body to rest while his mind raced. Would Rodney ever ask John to sacrifice his family? Not intentionally, of course, John didn't think Rodney had it in him to really hurt someone. Hell, despite his constant snarking, Rodney put up with lots of people he couldn't stand -- Vala, for instance, or Dr. Kavanagh -- when he had the power and influence to keep them away. John bet Lionel Luthor wouldn't be so nice. He probably would have shipped Kavanagh off to Russia by now, something that hadn't even occurred to Rodney.

On the other hand, Rodney had already made it very clear that he didn't think much of family, and it was always possible that he could do or say something that he thought was acceptable, when in reality it was unforgivable. What would John do if that happened? Whose side would he be on?

Maybe he could be on both sides. What a scary, exhilarating thought.

Of course, this could all be a moot point, as John was pretty sure Rodney didn't even want to speak to him right now, much less start a serious relationship. Apologizing might work, but then again, it might not.

What he needed was a gesture, a statement. Something that would show Rodney that he really was serious about wanting a relationship. That he was going to make a sincere effort not to fuck up again. Something that he could give Rodney to make up for all of the shit John had put him through over the last couple of weeks.

But what?

John considered for a few moments, and found that the answer was surprisingly easy to find. After all, it had been right there in front of him all along. Pushing himself off the wall, John went in search of Rodney.

He found him behind a small, unassuming door off the main entranceway that John had expected would lead to a closet. Instead, it proved to be a tiny, but very elegant, parlor. Rodney was perched in one of the antique armchairs, looking uncomfortable. John's arms ached with the effort of not reaching out to Rodney, of not pulling him into an embrace. He so desperately wanted to comfort his friend, but right now he didn't have that right. He had thrown it away in a fit of uncertainty and panic and now he had to earn it back, anyway he could.

"Rodney." John cleared his throat. Now that the moment had come, he wished he had planned this out a little better. Wished he had thought of an opening or at least an appropriate apology. All he could think of was his statement, however, the gesture he was going to make to prove his commitment. In the end, that was what he blurted out: "I want you to fuck me."

"What?" Rodney yelped.

"No, wait," John said quickly. "That's not what I meant to say. I want you to _make love_ to me. And, um, I'm sorry. For being an asshole. Uh, again."

Rodney just stared at him for a moment, before looking away. "I don't know, John," he said quietly. "What if you change your mind again?"

"I won't," John said without hesitation. Rodney didn't look convinced, so John added, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about this," no reason Rodney needed to know that the thinking time had all occurred since the party started, "and I'm ready for a real relationship. With you. Something permanent."

Rodney stared at John, his jaw hanging. After a moment, he closed it with a snap. "Why?" he asked hoarsely.

Oh, God. John _sucked_ at explaining why. "Um, because I like you," he said hesitantly. Rodney just stared at him, which John took to mean he needed a bit more. "And because you're smart, and funny, and hot, and...and..." John started to panic as he ran out of words to explain just how wonderful Rodney was. "And I really like you," he finally finished, lamely.

Rodney took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?" John asked hopefully. "Okay, like, 'okay, we can have sex again'?"

"Okay, as in, 'okay, I'll _think_ about having sex again'," Rodney said, crossing his arms and scowling. "I'm not sure I'm ready to risk any more mind games."

John opened his mouth to protest, but stopped as he realized there was nothing he could say to that. Whatever his intentions, he _had_ been messing with Rodney's head, and he couldn't blame Rodney for being nervous about trying again. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "I can wait. Just...let me know, whatever you decide."

He nodded uncomfortably and turned to leave. Rodney's voice stopped him at the door. "Just how long are you willing to wait?"

John bit his lip and turned around. "As long as you need me to," he said. He was surprised to find that it was actually true. At that moment, at least, John was willing to wait forever.

The tightness around Rodney's mouth eased a little. "It won't be too long," the scientist said hesitantly. "Just a few days. A week, maybe." He shuffled his feet. John felt a rush of warmth in his chest and again had to fight down the urge to pull Rodney into an embrace. "How about the New Year's Eve party?" Rodney added. "Would that be too late?"

"No," John said, his mouth slipping into an affectionate smile. God help him, he really might love this man. "Not too late at all."

"Okay," Rodney said, letting out a relieved breath. "Okay."

John turned to leave again and this time, Rodney didn't stop him.

John spent the rest of the night going through the motions, making all the right noises and smiling at all the right people and feeling completely numb. It was as if he had used up all of his emotion for the day talking to Rodney and now he had nothing left to give. Probably for the best, considering the fact that if he could feel he would no doubt be a nervous wreck.

Dave earned the MVP award for the night by pulling a guitar out of thin air and entertaining the children with Christmas carols. Ronon and Teyla spent their time on duty 'guarding' Rod Johnson from autograph-seeking kids. Lorne suddenly developed a passion for dishwashing, leaving Daniel and Teal'c to brave the under-ten crowd. 'Santa' got to dance with Senator Weir, and walked off the floor looking a little happier than was appropriate for a mixed party.

John didn't see Rodney at all for the rest of the night, and he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed by the scientist's absence.

ooo

The week between the Christmas party and New Year's Eve was hell. John found himself irritable all of the time and he didn't have the patience to deal with anything. Unfortunately, Dr. Beckett left on Monday, leaving behind a desperately conflicted Carson who had no one else to turn to, as Ronon and Teyla were still guarding Rod Johnson from the terror of actually interacting with his fans; Laura and Aiden were still working on the movie (and sending out resumes like mad during their down time); and Miko was pulling double duty in the kitchen, covering for Jonas as he completed his bake-off entries while doing her own work _and_ getting ready for another semester of classes. John managed to avoid saying anything he might regret to Carson, but he knew he hadn't been much help, either.

By Wednesday everyone had apparently had enough, as Miko told John to go out for ranch dressing and suggested he not come back until the ball on Friday. John slunk out of the house and was debating who he could find to put him up for the next couple of nights when his cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, John."

"Hi, Jack," John said, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension from the last few days drained away. "Miko called you, didn't she?"

"Why do you say that?" Jack asked. Before John could answer, Jack added, "It occurred to me while I was fishing today that we haven't seen much of each other lately."

"True," John said cautiously.

"And that's a damn shame."

"Uh, okay."

"So I think you should come on out here for a visit."

John perked up. "To the cabin?"

"Of course. I won't even make you camp outside."

John grinned. "Jack, that'd be great. Thanks." Then reality reasserted itself. "But I have to be back by Friday. I have an important gig." Really important, in fact. More important than anyone knew, except for him and Rodney. John sighed, a good portion of his excitement slipping away.

"Not a problem," Jack said, and if he heard John's sigh, he didn't comment on it. "I've got to be back on Friday anyway. Hot date."

"Really?" John said, perking up again. Jack never brought up his love life, which was why no one knew for sure whether he was gay or straight. "Anyone I know?" he added, wondering if he was going to get a chance to meet the mysterious Sam.

"Anything's possible," Jack said cheerfully. "Call me if you need directions." He hung up.

John shook his head and turned off his cell phone. This was going to be interesting.

Surprisingly enough, John managed not to get lost on the way to Jack's cabin, though John wasn't sure if this was proof that his sense of direction was finally improving or merely a sign of the apocalypse. The front door of the cabin was ajar and there was a beer sitting on the table in the foyer and John decided he didn't care what caused his miraculous improvement in navigational skills as long as he got some down time in before the end of the world.

Jack was sitting on a lawn chair at the back of the cabin, watching a smoking grill. "Good timing," he said as John stepped out onto the deck. "Want a steak?"

The next two days flew by. John was tense at first, but as time passed and Jack made no mention of Rodney or dating or of relationships in general, John slowly began to relax. The embargo on all relationship talk meant that John didn't get to drill Jack about Sam, but he considered it a fair exchange for getting off the hook about Rodney. John didn't know how much Jack had heard about John's recent behavior; he was hoping it wasn't much.

Instead of talking, they fished. A lot. They didn't catch anything, but John was okay with that as he could happily go his entire life without having to clean a fresh-caught fish. Instead they talked quietly, on random, safe topics, like the ins and outs of running your own business and remembering John's parents. For the first time in his life, John heard the story of how Jimmy and Annabelle met (at an illicit tour of the largest marijuana farm in the US), the details of John's birth (Jimmy passed out, hit his head on a table on the way to the floor, and spent the night in the ER), and how the Sheppards could afford to pay off their large home while raising seven kids (Annabelle's inheritance, after her father died). John smiled more in those two days than he had in the last two weeks as Jack told John embarrassing stories from the early years of Jimmy and Annabelle's marriage and dryly detailed some of the more colorful bits of John's forgotten childhood.

By the time Jack and John loaded up to head back to LA the pounding tension in John's body had softened to nothing more than a persistent throb, and he was almost looking forward to his upcoming meeting with Rodney. After all, Rodney hadn't said no right away, had he? He said he'd think about it. That meant there was still a chance. A good one. Probably.

The drive back to LA was quiet. They were taking John's car, since Jack was getting a ride back out with someone else -- Sam, John figured, though he couldn't say it out loud since Jack was being impressively cagey with details about his upcoming date. John figured he was doing it just to be annoying.

John was a little disconcerted to come back to find that Atlantis Catering had run perfectly smoothly in his absence. Dave was gone, to everyone's relief, having found a job as the comic relief in a teen-oriented primetime soap. John just hoped it did well so he wouldn't have to see Dave again. In his place was another walk-in: Gabriel Bowman [13], who, as far as John could tell, took the job simply for the opportunity to grill Daniel within an inch of his life. As he worked, Gabriel pattered off a never-ending stream of questions about supernatural and religious artifacts and Daniel, surprisingly enough, seemed to be able to answer most of them. John pointed out that Gabriel didn't have any waiting experience. Lorne retorted that not much experience was needed to wash dishes. Daniel brightened at the comment and his answers to Gabriel's questions gained in enthusiasm.

Not only had Miko and Lorne easily handled the staffing issues with aplomb, but even the art gallery opening on Thursday had gone off without a hitch and everything was already ready for that night's party. Still, John firmly reminded himself as they loaded up the fan and headed to the SGCC, he had gotten them this gig in the first place. That counted for a lot.

The first thing John did on arriving was to look for Rodney, even though it was at least an hour before the party was supposed to start and the chances of Rodney being there that early were virtually nil. Unsurprisingly, John's hurried visual search was in vain, and he resigned himself to helping the crew set up.

After the insanity that was the month of December, the new crew was working together like clockwork. Set-up was a breeze and everything was ready by the time people started to arrive. John paced nervously near the food table, his eyes snapping over towards the door each time a new arrival walked through. A lot of familiar faces passed through -- Weir, Kinsey (though no Cowen, which was a relief), Lex Luthor -- but never the face John both feared and desperately wanted to see.

Zelenka, either taking pity on him or being a crueler bastard than usual, wandered over as soon as he entered. "Ah, John," he said with a smile that made John want to hide under a table. "Waiting for Rodney?"

John nodded tightly, afraid of what his voice might sound like if he actually tried to speak.

"I trust you remember what we spoke of last time," Zelenka said, a touch of menace in his voice.

John nodded again.

Zelenka eyed him narrowly, and then suddenly smiled. It was terrifying. "Good," he said cheerfully and patted John on the back. John tried not to flinch. He wasn't totally successful.

Just then, there was a slight commotion at the door. John turned to see who it was and found himself staring at Rodney McKay.

He was arm-in-arm with Dr. Samantha Carter.

Well, _fuck_.

Then, confusing John even more, _Jack_ walked into the room and took Carter's _other_ arm.

What the hell?

"How interesting," Zelenka said. John wanted to hit him.

Before violence could break out, Rodney and Jack simultaneously raised their free arms and waved at John. A moment later they realized what they were doing and dropped their hands. Rodney sent a scathing look in Jack's direction; Jack looked decidedly unconcerned.

Zelenka looked like he might talk again, so John hurried forward to greet the new arrivals. "Rodney! Jack!" he cried with warmth. "Dr. Carter," he added with as much charm as he could muster.

"John," she said pleasantly enough. "I'd like to introduce you to my fiance."

John's breath caught in his throat.

Carter turned to Jack. "I believe you've already met."

John let out a sound that he flatly refused to call a whimper. "Jack, man, congratulations," he said, hoping he didn't sound as relieved as he felt.

He held out his hand to Jack, but his eyes were already seeking out Rodney, desperate to know what the scientist was thinking. Rodney refused to meet his eyes.

A leaden weight settled in the pit of John's stomach, and he had to force his attention back to the happy couple. "So," he said with a reasonably sincere smile, "you must be the mysterious Sam."

Carter and Jack both relaxed visibly, and promptly launched into a discussion of how they met. It was cute and right out of a romantic comedy and John tuned out of the whole conversation about five minutes in, though he nodded periodically to cover the fact that he was entirely focused on stealing glimpses of Rodney.

Rodney. Dr. Rodney McKay. Genius, billionaire, scientist. John's friend and maybe, possible, something more. Tonight he was wearing a black tux with a black bowtie and a white rose boutonniere. He looked crisp and elegant. John desperately wanted to rumple him.

"...the moon," Carter finished with a smirk.

Judging from Carter and Jack's expressions John suspected he might have been caught out, but without knowing for sure all he could do was smile blandly and wish them congratulations again. Before Jack could respond with anything too embarrassing, John added, "I was surprised to see you walk in with Rodney."

Rodney, who'd spent most of the last few minutes staring pleadingly at Zelenka, abruptly straightened and returned his attention to the group. "We ran into each other outside," he said, stiffly. "And...talked."

Carter grinned. "Rodney agreed to stop stalking me and I agreed to cancel my request for a restraining order. After all," she added, looking at Jack fondly. "Any friend of Jack's is a friend of mine."

Rodney crossed his arms. "I'm not a friend of Jack's."

John smothered a wince and took Rodney by the elbow. "Will you excuse us?" he asked Carter and Jack.

They nodded, looking amused. Jack winked. John flushed and dragged Rodney back to the foyer they'd discovered last week.

"You know, manhandling me in front of my employees and the woman I had one day hoped to marry really isn't helping your cause," Rodney grumbled on the way.

"Shut up, Rodney," John said, closing the door behind them.

Once they had some privacy, John crossed his arms to hide his shaking hands and took a deep breath. "So."

Rodney squared off opposite John and crossed his arms as well. "So?"

"It's been a week."

"Technically it's only been--"

"Rodney!"

"Fine. It's been a week. Approximately."

"A bad week," John added, his voice getting thick.

Rodney's eyes softened. "Really?"

"Yeah," John croaked. He cleared his throat and searched around the room for a safe place to settle his eyes. His shoes won the dubious honor. "So, have you made your decision?"

"Yes, I think I have." There was a long pause and John blinked rapidly to try and clear his stinging eyes. "Look at me, John," Rodney said gently.

John held his breath and forced his eyes up to meet Rodney's tender gaze. "Yes," Rodney said softly.

John heaved in a huge gulp of air. "Yes?"

Rodney smiled, his suspiciously bright. "Yes."

"Oh, God." John took two big steps and wrapped his arms around Rodney, burying his face in the scientist's neck. "Thank you," he murmured, his lips brushing delicate skin. "Thank you."

Strong arms locked around John's back. "Just don't...this is your last chance, John Sheppard. You better not screw it up."

"I won't," John promised, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I swear I won't."

"You better not," Rodney repeated. "Or I can't speak for my actions."

John chuckled weakly. "You know, Zelenka already threatened to nuke me if I hurt you."

"He did? Damn interfering Czech." Despite his words, Rodney's voice was fond, and John smiled.

Taking courage from the exchange, John leaned back and admitted, "I was afraid you'd say no. That you'd decide I wasn't worth the risk."

"Oh, John." Rodney's large, capable hands brushed John's cheek. John closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. "You're worth it," Rodney said hoarsely.

They held each other in silence for a long time before John spoke again. "Can we leave? I don't think I'm up for playing host tonight."

"Oh, yes," Rodney said huskily. "God, yes."

ooo

They went to Rodney's house, since John wasn't keen on Miko or, worse, Aiden, stumbling in on anything they shouldn't see. John was too keyed up to pay much attention to the house or the neighborhood as they arrived, though he noticed the former was very large and the latter was very exclusive. It took every ounce of willpower John had, but he managed to wait till they got past Rodney's security (lock, deadbolt, and a _retinal scanner_) before he dragged Rodney into his arms and kissed him.

As kisses went, it was pretty hot. As first kisses went, it was fucking fantastic, and John gave them both plenty of time to enjoy it, repeatedly dipping his tongue in to Rodney's mouth and teasing Rodney into following back into John's. Rodney moaned as John lightly fucked his mouth with his tongue, and strong hands fisted the fabric of John's jacket. His good jacket. John groaned and pulled back. "Bedroom?"

"Follow me," Rodney said, panting just a little as he led the way up a ridiculously ornate staircase at the back of the large, open foyer. John stripped as he walked, and tried not to feel intimidated.

By the time they reached the bedroom, John was down to his boxers and socks and he bared his feet before entering the room. Rodney was still fully dressed and looked flabbergasted as he turned to find John one garment away from the buff. "Are you a magician in your spare time?" Rodney asked incredulously.

"That's what I lo--like about you," John said affectionately. "You always know just what to say to a guy to make him feel wanted."

Rodney blushed. "I'm sorry, I'm really not that good at--"

John put a hand over Rodney's mouth to silence him. "You're doing great," he said gently. "Although," he added teasingly. "You are a little overdressed for the occasion."

Rodney rolled his eyes and stripped off his coat. He reached for the buttons of his shirt, but John stopped him. "Let me," John requested softly.

"O-okay," Rodney said, swallowing convulsively, and letting his hands drop down to his sides.

John smiled in encouragement as he reached forward and began working the tiny tabs of plastic, slowly revealing what he'd only had teasing glimpses of before. Rodney's chest was large and well-formed, and smattered with just the right amount of soft brown hair. John made an approving sound and leaned forward to kiss the center of that generous expanse, before shifting a bit to the right and pulling one pert nipple into his mouth.

Rodney gasped.

John grinned. "You like that?"

"Shut up, shut up! Do it again."

So John did it again, this time bringing his teeth gently down on the nub.

"Oh my God," Rodney moaned.

John smirked around the nipple. This was going to be fun.

He spent several minutes lavishing attention on Rodney's nipples, working them with his tongue and lips while simultaneously unfastening and removing Rodney's shirt and slacks. The cuff links got lost in the shuffle, but Rodney didn't seem to care, so John didn't worry about it.

Finally he reached the limits of his own flexibility and reluctantly leaned back. Before Rodney could do more than make an incoherent sound of protest, John gracefully dropped to his knees. It took him just a moment to untie Rodney's shoes and, after a bit of nudging, to get them off of the scientist's feet. Socks and the already open pants soon followed, revealing Rodney's wildly patterned boxer shorts. John leaned forward with a frown. "Rodney, is it my imagination, or do you have Einstein heads on your shorts?"

Rodney abruptly lost the fuzzy, blissed-out look that had accompanied his disrobing. "What?" he said defensively. "Einstein was a genius."

John opened his mouth to make a smart retort, but the bulge in Rodney's shorts distracted him. Instead he said, "Why don't you, I, and Einstein move over to the bed."

"For the life of me, I can't figure out why I find you so attractive," Rodney said as John backed him into the bed. "You insulted Einstein! That shouldn't be hot!"

"Uh-huh," John said absently as he eased a hand into the back of Rodney's boxers. There he discovered Rodney's ass, which was firm and plump and did a fantastic job of filling his hands.

"Are you even paying atten--_mmpf_."

Rodney's lips kept trying to talk after John kissed him, but it only took a moment before Rodney was focused on the matter at hand, humming happily against John's lips. That delicate vibration went straight to John's groin, and John groaned and ground his erection down into Rodney's hip. Rodney made a small startled noise and John sighed and pulled back to look Rodney in the eye.

"Okay," John said. "When you said you'd had sex with men more than once, that meant twice, right?"

Rodney crossed his arms, brushing them against John's torso in the process. John suppressed a shudder as he waited for a response. "Three times," Rodney said indignantly. John eyed him dubiously. "Fine," Rodney said reluctantly. "Three times including last time with you."

At this point John knew he should push for details about Rodney's experience, but the idea of listening to Rodney talk about his past partners was acutely uncomfortable. He settled for insisting: "You have to tell me if we do anything that you don't like."

"Of course," Rodney agreed, far too readily, already leaning up for another kiss.

John leaned back. "I mean it, Rodney. I'm trusting you to be honest here. I don't want you to do anything that you might regret."

Rodney frowned and reached out to cup John's cheek as he asked, "Why, John? Did you once do something you regretted?"

Damn. John ducked his head and swallowed hard, considering how much he wanted to say. How much Rodney might want to hear. "Yes," he said after a long hesitation. "A long time ago."

Rodney nodded slowly. "Do you want to talk about this now?"

"No," John said, with feeling.

"Good," Rodney said, sounding relieved. "Can we get back to what we were doing?"

John smiled helplessly. This...this was why he lo--liked Rodney McKay. Well, one of the reasons, anyway. "Sure. But before we get too involved, do you have any supplies?"

Rodney just nodded at his nightstand. John pulled out a bottle of Astroglide and a box of condoms. He frowned at the lube. "Do you have anything thicker?"

Rodney scooted further up on the bed and scowled. "No, why?" He sounded defensive.

"No reason," John said quickly. He'd bring some of his own stuff next time. "Just be sure to use a lot. It rubs off quickly." He handed the bottle to Rodney, who took it nervously, as if he were afraid it was going to bite.

"I've been thinking," Rodney said, slowly turning over the bottle of lube.

"Really? You? Thinking?"

Rodney smacked him lightly on the head. "Stop being charming. I've been thinking about what you said. About me...making love to you."

John wanted to make another smart comment, but Rodney was looking anxious now, so John just slid up on the bed until he was lying next to Rodney. "Good thinking or bad thinking?"

"Thinking that maybe you should do it to me," Rodney said, all in a rush. He was bright red now, which made his brilliant blue eyes stand out even more.

John sat up at that. "But you said you didn't like it."

"I _didn't_," Rodney snapped. "But I don't want to hurt you."

John was swallowed by a wave of affection. "Oh, Rodney. You won't hurt me."

"But...but you said you were exclusively a top," Rodney said, sounding terribly uncertain.

"I am, or, well, I was. But not always." John took a deep breath. "I don't want to get into that tonight. Just, trust me. I've bottomed before, and I've liked it. You won't hurt me. I promise I won't let you hurt me."

"Okay," Rodney said in a small voice.

John sighed and took the bottle from Rodney's hand. "Tell you what -- I'll do all of the work. All you have to do is lie back and enjoy."

"Oh. Okay," Rodney said, sounding much more confident. "I can do that."

John smirked and pecked Rodney on the lips. "I know you can, Casanova. Come on, make yourself comfortable. I think you're going to like this."

With that motivation before them, Rodney and John made quick work of arranging the bed, pulling back the blankets and sheets and piling up the pillows. Once everything was arranged, Rodney scrambled back up and settled into the nest they'd made. "Ready," he said happily, his cock tenting his boxers in silent but enthusiastic agreement.

John stripped off his own boxers and nodded at Rodney's. "I think it's time to kick Einstein out of bed."

Rodney didn't seem to hear, as all of his attention was focused on John's groin. John glanced down at his cock, making sure everything was in place, before looking up again. "Rodney? You still with me?"

"Uh-huh," Rodney said absently. His hand drifted up in the direction of John's cock. "God, you're pretty everywhere, aren't you?"

John grinned and crawled onto the bed, reaching up to tug Rodney's boxers down. At the last minute, Rodney roused himself enough to lift his hips up and his shorts went on top of the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.

When imagining this moment over the past week, John had decided that there would be lots of foreplay: kissing and snuggling and teasing. Unfortunately, he forgot to take into account just how fucking hot Rodney would be leaning back against a mountain of pillows, his thick cock standing proud and his pupils dilated with lust. It took less than a second for John to decide that they could save the foreplay for next time. Right now, he needed to be fucked.

With that thought burning through the last of his rational thought processes, John turned his back on Rodney and got on all fours, spreading his knees wide so Rodney could see everything John had to offer. "Watch closely," John said as he popped open the bottle and poured out a generous amount of lube. "You'll be doing this to me next time."

Rodney squeaked. John took that to mean he understood and was paying attention.

John took his time preparing himself, using lots of lube and making sure his sphincter muscles were well stretched. He hadn't done this in a long time, and Rodney was considerably larger than Alex. John didn't want to scare Rodney by softening as he was being penetrated.

Once he was as loose as he could be, John turned back around and straddled Rodney's waist. Slicking a condom on Rodney and covering it with lube took a second and then, suddenly, it was time. "Ready?" John asked, covering his own anxiety with an encouraging smile.

Rodney, who looked nervous enough for the both of them, just nodded.

Taking a deep breath, John grasped Rodney's shoulders for balance, and slowly, so slowly, sank down on Rodney's cock. Rodney gasped at the initial penetration and by the time John was halfway down, the scientist was panting. His obvious enthusiasm went a long way in settling the last of John's nervous butterflies and by the time John's ass brushed against Rodney's groin, John was feeling downright relaxed. "How's that?" he asked, though the answer was obvious from the ecstatic expression on Rodney's face.

"Oh, God, John, you feel so good," Rodney said blissfully.

John leaned forward to give Rodney a brief kiss, loving the way his body felt as it moved around the hard shaft. "Hold on," he said softly. "You're going to love this." And with no other warning, John pushed himself up and began to ride. Rodney's coherence lasted for approximately two thrusts before he degenerated into mindless babble. John grinned and moved faster, dropping down harder, doing everything in his power to make this the best, most mind-blowing ride of Rodney's life.

He wasn't just doing this for Rodney, however. It felt good, amazingly good, to have a cock in his ass again, and with each powerful thrust, John cursed himself for allowing Alex to take this away from him, to make him turn his back on an act that he had enjoyed. Loved, even.

John loved bottoming. He loved the sensation of being filled, the burn of the initial stretch, the intimacy integral to letting another man take him, even the loose, open feeling after his partner pulled out. He loved riding a man, dictating the pace of the intercourse, and he loved being underneath, having someone else focus on making sure he was having a good time. Most of all, however, he loved the fact that the man inside of him was _Rodney_, a man he trusted and liked and maybe even loved. A man he was looking forward to getting to know better. A man who might just be the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Rodney leaned forward and pulled John into a desperate hug. "John, oh God, John, I'm...I'm...coming_Joooooohnnnn_!"

Feeling Rodney's body begin to shake, John slammed down hard and stayed down, whipping his hand along his own cock. It only took a couple of jerks and then he was coming too, striping Rodney's beautiful chest with semen.

It seemed to last forever, and was over all too soon, and John and Rodney collapsed back into a tangle of heaving chests and sweaty limbs.

Rodney snuffled and lifted his head just a fraction to announce wearily, "I'm definitely a top."

"Shut up, Rodney," John murmured in reply.

And on that note, they fell asleep.

ooo

Rodney woke John up at an unholy hour the next morning. John, who had spent most of his adult life working late nights and who rarely woke up before ten, pulled a pillow over his head and growled, "Go away."

Judging from the finger poking into John's ribs, Rodney hadn't been intimidated. John threw his pillow at the scientist and huffed, "I was _sleeping_."

"I noticed," Rodney said cheerfully.

John's eyes narrowed. "You're awfully perky."

Rodney stopped bouncing about the room and instead bounced in place in front of the bed. "It's the first of the year," he said, as if this were the most wonderful news in the world.

"Uh-huh," John said slowly as he tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he might be falling for a _morning person_. Fate could be a cruel bitch. "So?"

"So? _So_?" Rodney jumped on the bed. John groaned and hid under the covers. "Today is the first day we have access to the DST project." Rodney bounced on the bed. John hated him. "I've been waiting for this day for _months_."

John lowered the blanket just enough to peek over the edge. "Rodney, it's a Saturday. The government doesn't work on Saturdays."

"Maybe not," Rodney answered smugly. "But I do. Come on, get up. If you're dressed and downstairs in fifteen minutes, I'll let you drive the Porsche."

John made it in ten.

ooo

Compared to the non-stop stress of December, the first week of January was almost relaxing. They lost Gabriel after the first of the year -- apparently he'd gotten all the information he'd wanted out of Daniel and was now moving to New York City to open up a store for supernatural artifacts. John just shook his head and wished him luck. A few more walk-ins showed up, but John told Lorne to hold off on hiring anyone new until a few days before the Masquerade Ball, which was their only big event in January. Might as well save a few bucks where they could.

The biggest chore that week was to scour the kitchen from top to bottom, cleaning away every scrap of dirt left after four weeks of hasty wipe-downs. Even the walk in refrigerator, deep freezer, and dual ovens were scrubbed until they gleamed. It was hard, unpleasant work, and John shortened the work day in lieu of hazard pay. By three o'clock each day, even Teal'c looked tired and John felt ready to drop.

John didn't see much of Rodney that week; the scientist had cloistered himself in his lab with his new project and had yet to come up for air. On Sunday and Monday John got brief e-mails assuring John that Rodney was fine and would call him soon. When Tuesday and Wednesday passed without a call or even another e-mail, however, John decided he'd had enough. Armed with a Sugar Shock from The Daily Grind and wearing his still-shiny visitor's pass, John prepared to storm Pegasus Labs.

Storming proved to be more difficult than he had anticipated, however, as Stackhouse now had a buddy helping him man the front desk. Pasting on a smile to cover his consternation, John headed to the desk and prepared for battle. "Hey, I'm here to see Dr. McKay."

The new guard looked down at a clipboard he was carrying. "Name?"

John winced. "Um, John Sheppard. Look, I don't actually have an appointment--"

"He's on Dr. Z's list," Stackhouse said, cutting John off.

"Really?" John asked. He caught himself. "I mean, of course."

Stackhouse grinned. "John, I don't think you've met my new partner, Markham."

John stuck out his hand. Markham verified that John was, indeed, on Dr. Zelenka's list before shaking hands. "Nice to meet you," he said.

"Same here," John answered. He wanted to ask why there was suddenly a second guard at Pegasus, but decided that it was probably due to the new project. Even if that wasn't the case, it wasn't polite to question the new guy's position right in front of him, so John just signed in and headed for the elevator, throwing back one last wave for Stackhouse.

For the first time since John began visiting Rodney wasn't in his office, and for several minutes John just stood there staring at the empty desk, wondering what to do next. He couldn't go wandering around, not with classified government projects all over the place. On the other hand, he certainly didn't intend on standing here all night; Rodney might never show. Finally he decided to try Zelenka's office. Someone had to be signing those payroll checks.

Sure enough, Zelenka was sitting at his desk, bent over a pile of checks. He looked up at John's knock and immediately his tense posture relaxed. "Thank God you are here. You must take Rodney home."

"What?" John asked, his spine suddenly tight. "Why? What's wrong?"

Zelenka waved his hands, quieting John's frantic questions. "No, no, do not worry. Nothing is wrong, except that Rodney has not been home in four days. He has not showered in four days. He has not changed his clothes in four days. You must take him away from here. People are complaining of the stench."

John grimaced. "Oh. Uh, okay. Where is he?"

Two minutes later, John found himself loitering in the hallway just outside a top secret government lab, and he wasn't even trying to sneak a peak. Admittedly, John's discretion had less to do with respect for the government's secrets and more to do with the fear of what Zelenka would do to him if John was caught, but still, it was a pretty unusual position for the average caterer. Not for the first time, John marveled at how much a man's life could change, just by becoming friends with Rodney McKay.

John heard Rodney before he saw him: "I am _fine_, Radek. I don't need to go home. I _can't_ go home. Not now! I'm on the verge of a breakthr--oh. John. Uh, hi."

"Hi," John said, trying not to stare. Rodney looked awful: his eyes were red and bloodshot, his clothing was stained with coffee and bits of food, and his stubble was making a play for beard status. "How are you?"

"_Fine_," Rodney said defensively, though John noticed that the scientist had shifted one of his hands to cover an especially nasty yellow stain. "Radek shouldn't have called you to get me."

"Hey," John said, affronted. "No one called me to do anything. I just came by to give you this." He held out the rapidly cooling coffee.

Rodney stared at it for a moment, as if he couldn't quite believe its existence, then snatched the cup and drained it in his usual indigestion-flaunting manner. John and Zelenka winced. "Thanks," Rodney said, wiping his mouth. "I needed that."

"You need a shower," Zelenka said.

"You need to sleep," John said at the same time.

Apparently determined not to be outdone, Zelenka crossed his arms and said, "You need to relieve your sexual tension."

"Hey!" John and Rodney snapped simultaneously.

Zelenka just raised his eyebrows.

"Fine," Rodney muttered.

"Well you don't have to make it sound like a chore," John groused.

Rodney grinned, his whole face lighting up as he grabbed John's arm. "It won't be," he said, dragging John in the direction of the parking garage. John sent one half-panicked glance over his shoulder to see a smug-looking Zelenka turn and head back to his office.

They ended up taking John's car, because Rodney couldn't be bothered to remember where the Porsche was. Rodney passed out before they even made it out of the garage and John idly wondered if it was possible to drink so much caffeine that it actually put you to sleep instead of keeping you awake.

John got lost, of course, but a quick call to Zelenka for the address and Miko for directions got them to Rodney's house in one piece. Waking the scientist was more fun than it should have been, as John took a perverse pleasure in poking the man in his ribs. Rodney mumbled for a few moments, swatting at John's hand, before opening his eyes blearily. "What are you, five?"

"Turnabout's fair play," John said cheerfully. "Come on, let's get you inside and cleaned up."

Rodney obediently followed John into the house and up the stairs. He balked at having John join him in the shower, however, and in the end John went downstairs to search out sustenance while Rodney washed off four days worth of sweat. In retrospect, John figured he probably got the better end of that deal, though he was surprised to discover that he found even an exhausted, unkempt Rodney McKay attractive. That certainly hadn't been true of Alex. The one time John had seen Alex looking less than perfectly clean (after a failed experiment in cow-tipping during their road trip -- they'd both been very drunk at the time), he'd made the man scrub down for an hour before John agreed to touch him. Alex hadn't been at all happy at John's rejection, which served to make the memory sweeter.

Once John had put together the finest meal his culinary talents could produce -- scrambled eggs and toast -- he headed back upstairs to check on his scientist. He found Rodney clean and curled up on his bed in a robe, once again fast asleep. Despite himself, John smiled fondly at the sight.

Deciding that sleep was more important than food, John set aside the tray and set about making Rodney more comfortable. It took a bit of nudging, but he managed to get the scientist out of the robe and under the covers. After a moment's hesitation, John stripped down to his boxers and slid in next to him. Pulling Rodney close, John closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

He woke up surrounded by warmth and wetness and suction. Unable to stop himself, John let out a low, long moan, and thrust up into that delicious heat.

Abruptly the heat was withdrawn and John heard the distinctive sounds of someone choking. His eyes snapped open to see a red-faced Rodney coughing and gasping, mere inches from John's cock. John winced. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Rodney."

Rodney just waved his hands and wheezed, "Not a problem. What I get for molesting you while you were asleep."

John leered. "You can molest me anytime."

Rodney snorted in response and ticked the bottom of John's foot. A tickle war broke out and soon John and Rodney were rolling about the bed, laughing uncontrollably and desperately gasping for air.

When they finally settled down enough to breathe, Rodney was on top, his weight pinning John to the mattress. Shamelessly taking advantage of the situation, John spread his legs and wriggled until Rodney slid between his thighs.

Rodney just nestled his head against John's chest and hummed happily.

Glaring at the infuriating man, John groped around until he found the Astroglide. He threw it at Rodney's head.

"Ow!" Rodney rubbed the crown of his head and scowled at John. "What was that?"

John thrust up in reply, grinding his cock into Rodney's.

"Oh. Why didn't you just say something?" Rodney opened the bottle.

"I was trying to be _subtle_," John groused.

Rodney stopped with the tip of one slick finger just inside John's body. "Why?" he asked, sounding sincerely baffled.

John groaned. "Never mind, I won't do it again." He thrust down against the unmoving finger. "Could you please get with the program, here?"

"Right, right."

Rodney opened him up with a surprising degree of expertise, so either he'd really paid attention last time, or he'd been doing some research on the subject. "You researched this didn't you?" John gasped as the third finger pushed in.

"I only did what any reasonably educated person would do when faced with a task for which he was not adequately informed," Rodney answered loftily and using far too many big words considering their current position.

"Whatever you say, Rodney," John said with a grin. "As long as you fuck me."

So Rodney did.

ooo

John drove Rodney back to work on Friday and dropped him off with strict instructions to be home no later than seven. "If I can't get in because of the retinal scanner, I'm going to be seriously pissed," John told the scientist sternly.

"I'll program your retinal imprint in this weekend," Rodney answered.

John drove away feeling ridiculously warm.

Defying expectations, Rodney was ready and waiting at his house when John got there that evening. Based on Rodney's surly expression, John guessed Zelenka was responsible for Rodney's promptness. Discretion being the better part of valor, John avoided the smart remark and simply asked, "You want to go get something to eat?"

Rodney reeled him in for a hard, hot kiss.

"That works, too," John said when they broke apart for air.

By Zelenka's decree, Rodney was locked out of the labs till Monday. Rodney being Rodney, he decided to use the involuntary vacation to explore other avenues of research, such as perfecting a technique for mind-blowing fellatio. John did his duty to science by giving Rodney a body on which to practice.

In between bouts of sex, John and Rodney ate vast amounts of food dropped off by a long line of prepubescent delivery boys and talked about anything and everything. John filled Rodney in on all that had gone on at Atlantis Catering during the awkward weeks when the two of them weren't sure they were still speaking to each other, and Rodney enthusiastically chattered on about his new project, avoiding details but still telling more than John suspected he was supposed to know. John had never been more grateful to not be an international spy.

By Monday, John was well-sucked and well-fucked and so exhausted he would have taken the day off if that had been possible considering he worked and lived in the same place. He had keys to Rodney's house, could get past the retinal scanner, and knew the alarm code. "You don't move slowly, do you?" he asked as he threaded the keys on his keychain.

Rodney shrugged. "It's not my possessions I'm worried about you stealing."

John had to kiss Rodney then, even though they were already running late.

As he dropped Rodney off -- which meant he got to drive the Porsche for the _whole day_ -- John commented, "Don't forget, I need the menu for the Masquerade Ball by the end of the week."

Rodney cocked his head. "Any chance of samples?"

John grinned. "I'll see what I can do."

That night they tested the lubricating qualities of several desserts. Technically the experiment was a failure, but as long as Rodney was willing to lick the unsuccessful attempts off John's body afterwards, John wasn't going to complain.

They settled into a schedule: wake up, have sex, go to work (with John usually driving the Porsche and dropping Rodney off), come home, eat, more sex, post-coital cuddling and conversation, sleep. John recognized that they couldn't keep this up forever, that real life would inevitably intrude, that at some point they would fight or grow complacent or maybe (oh God, hopefully not, but maybe) lose interest. He knew that, but he didn't care. This was their honeymoon, damn it, and he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

On Friday Rodney came home sparking with energy and he and John spent a couple of hours necking and planning a lavish menu for next Saturday's Masquerade Ball. As soon as they had picked the final dessert -- tiramisu, at John's suggestion -- Rodney grabbed the paper with John's notes, tossed it aside, and proceeded to fuck John right there on the couch.

Later, as Rodney nuzzled deeper into John's neck and John stroked Rodney's soft, fine hair, John asked, "Good day at work?"

"Great day at work," Rodney murmured. "We found something wonderful. Something so far out there, it didn't even have a name yet." He lifted his head up to grin down at John. "So we got to name it."

John smirked. "Let me guess -- Planet McKay?"

"Even better," Rodney said with a blinding smile. "The Pegasus Galaxy."

"Not bad," John admitted. He pecked Rodney on the lips. "Are you going to name something after me?"

Rodney buried his face back in John's neck. "Eventually," he said, his voice muffled. "When we find something special enough."

John felt that familiar rush of warmth that was so prevalent when he was with Rodney and he squeezed the scientist a little tighter. They fell asleep on the couch.

Saturday they visited Sam and Jack at Jack's cabin. They were supposed to go for the whole weekend, but by Saturday night Rodney had had enough of the bugs, and the fish, and the outdoors, and John had had enough of Rodney's complaining. By the time they got back to the house, John was in a foul temper.

"I'm sorry," Rodney repeated for the hundredth time as they dropped their bags in the foyer and headed to the living room. "We could have stayed."

"Right," John said, lacing his words with scorn. "Because I'm sure Jack loved having the cabin he saved up for his entire life called 'a rustic sort of shack'. I can't imagine why we had to leave after that."

"I'm _sorry_." One hundred and one. "You know I'm not good with people."

"Bullshit!" John yelled back. "That is such _bullshit_! I _saw_ you, Rodney, remember? At the Charity Ball? You weren't bad with people then!" He took in a deep, shuddering breath and plunged ahead. "It's not about people," he said, his voice shaking, his eyes and cheeks burning. "It's about Samantha Carter."

Rodney's eyes widened. "Sam? Is that what this is about? You're jealous of Sam?"

"Who said anything about jealousy?" John shouted. Rodney gave him a disbelieving look, and John quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, what about you? Why did you treat Jack like that if you weren't jealous of his relationship with Carter?"

Rodney suddenly looked uncertain. "Like what?"

"Like trash," John spit out. "Like he wasn't worth your time."

"I didn't mean to--"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, even _you_ don't believe that!" John fisted his hands, trying for a measure of control. "Just tell me why," he said, when he could speak without shouting. "Just tell me why you couldn't be civil for a single afternoon to the one man whose opinion really matters to me. I mean, Jack is one of the most important people in my life and I...oh."

Rodney tried to turn away to hide his flaming face, but John grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him. "That's it, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "You were right. Jealousy. Just not mine. And not of Carter."

"I'm sorry," Rodney whispered. "I knew I was acting badly, I could see it as it happened, but I just..." His voice trailed off as he lifted wet eyes to John's face. "If you could only hear the way you talk about him. The way you hang on his every word. You love him. He's your hero."

"Oh, Rodney," John said softly, all of his anger draining away, leaving nothing behind but love. "I'm so sorry."

Rodney sniffled. "You? What do you have to be sorry for?"

John gathered Rodney into his arms, tucking Rodney's head under his chin. Light tremors ran through the scientist's body, and John rubbed soothing circles on Rodney's back, trying to calm him. "Because I never told you," he said hoarsely. "I never told you that I loved you."

Rodney started shaking in earnest. "John?" His voice was full of desperation and longing.

"I mean it," John whispered, right into Rodney's ear. "I love you, Rodney McKay. You don't have to be jealous of Jack, or anyone else. Do you hear me? I. Love. You."

The sound Rodney made could only be called a sob, but when John shot a worried glance at Rodney's face, he found the scientist was wearing a brilliant smile. "Rodney?"

"I'm sorry," Rodney said. John wished he'd stop saying that. "I love you, too."

That, however, Rodney could say as often as he wanted to. "Really?" John asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Really," Rodney said firmly.

"Oh, God," John said faintly. "I think we need to go to bed. Right now."

Rodney smiled through a watery sniffle. "You really are a genius."

ooo

The next week was reminiscent of December's frantic pacing. With upwards of 500 people to feed on Saturday, the kitchen was working all day and long into the night. Jonas had conscripted the entire wait staff for chopping and other simple culinary tasks, leaving John to see to the preparation of the plate and tablecloths. Carson closed his office for the week to help out and even Laura came in after shooting each day to lend a hand. Unfortunately for Atlantis, Ronon and Teyla had picked up another couple of clients and weren't able to assist, and their needs for electronics was taking up all of Aiden's spare time as well. On the other hand, Aiden never had been much use in the kitchen and his absence saved a lot of plates. Especially once Laura and her famous chopping knife were relegated to a small section of counter far away from anything breakable.

On Wednesday, just as John was starting to panic about how he was going to be able to cater to a crowd of 500 with only three waiters, a tall, pale young man with dark hair and a self-deprecating sense of humor came in looking for work. Unlike their usual walk-ins, Xander Harris [14] was neither an actor, nor an academic -- he was simply a recent high school graduate looking for work. John hired him on the spot and gave Lorne the task of teaching the boy how to carry trays. Hopefully he was a quick study.

He wasn't, but it didn't matter as Zelenka wrote back the next day with the shocking information that Xander Harris had blown up his high school. Literally. Zelenka didn't know why Xander hadn't been arrested, but even suspicions of unlawful building demolition were reason enough not to be allowed to work a Pegasus Labs event. John did some creative swearing and called Xander into his office to suggest that maybe it was time to return to Sunnydale. Xander wasn't that hard to convince.

John's panic was approaching epic proportions when Teyla came by to announce that she and Ronon would be free to help on Saturday. John gave her a Teyla-hug and assured her that she was once again his favorite sister.

With all of the chaos at work, John had to forgo seeing Rodney for much of the week. Adding insult to injury, the enforced separation meant he didn't get to see the Porsche either. Sometimes life just wasn't fair.

The one unexpected bright spot came on Friday, when Acastus 'Cast' Coleman came in with a brilliant waiting resume and a need to start work immediately. He wasn't the prettiest face to look at -- his nose was too big, his eyes too small, and there was a rather disturbing scar on his face -- but he could handle a tray better than anyone John had met outside of Teyla and Ronon. Besides, the waiters would all be wearing domino masks for the masquerade ball, which would cover up that scar nicely.

Since there wasn't enough time to get a background check from Zelenka before Saturday, John did his own research, calling all of the businesses on Cast's resume. Everyone praised the man's work ethic and professionalism and told John he was lucky to catch such a talented waiter. John made sure to act appropriately grateful.

Flush with success at his recent hire, John decided to give Rodney a call and, for the first time since Rodney had started his new project, John managed to get through. "It's good to hear your voice," he said once they'd gotten through the greetings. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," Rodney answered. "I'm surrounded by idiots who seem bound and determined to blow up the lab with me in it. The worst you've ever done is use laundry detergent for bubble bath and subsequently flood the bathroom with bubbles."

John winced. "You promised you weren't going to mention that again."

"Did I?" Rodney asked. "How unlikely."

"Yeah, well, it was worth a try," John sighed. "How's the project coming along?"

"Terrible," Rodney said. "And I can't talk about it."

"Zelenka's been giving you the 'meaning of top secret' speech again, hasn't he?"

"Yes," Rodney said. "Sometimes I think he just likes to hear himself talk."

"Imagine that," John said.

Either ignoring the sarcasm or simply not registering it -- sometimes it was hard to tell with Rodney -- the scientist sighed and asked plaintively, "Are you coming over tonight?"

"I can't," John said with honest regret. "Things are crazy here. Miko would kill me if I left now." He glanced over to make sure his office door was shut before adding in a sultry tone, "But I'm driving you home after the ball and we're not leaving the bedroom till Monday morning."

"I like that plan," Rodney said quickly.

John grinned. "Yeah, me too. I can't wait to feel you in me again. I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it for a week."

Silence.

"Uh, Rodney? Still there?"

"Yes, I'm here." Deep breath.

John wondered if maybe he'd gone a little overboard with the dirty talk. It wasn't something they did often and John had noticed that Rodney never initiated it himself. "Rodney, are you all ri--"

"I've been thinking."

"Okay," John said cautiously. "About?"

"About you. And, uh, me."

John's stomach plummeted into the floor. "Oh, shit, Ro--"

"And...sex."

John blinked. "Uh, okay." He hesitated. "Good thoughts?"

"I think I want you to, you know, fuck me."

John snapped upright in his chair, his cock leaping to attention. "Really?"

"Yes."

"What, uh, what brought this on? Why now?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while," Rodney admitted. "You really like it, or, at least, you seem to--"

"I do," John said quickly. He didn't want any confusion about that.

"Right, well...so I want to try it. With you. I trust you."

The warmth was back, filling his chest with sweet pressure. "I'd love to do that with you, Rodney," John said, his voice full of love and affection. "And I promise to make it good for you."

"I know you will, John." A brief hesitation. "So, Saturday night? After the, oh God, I can't believe I'm saying this...after the ball?"

"Sounds perfect," John said. "I'll see you then." They exchanged goodbyes and John rang off.

It was only after he put the phone down that he realized he was grinning like a loon.

ooo

Invitations to the Pegasus Laboratories Annual Masquerade Ball proved to be even more valuable than those to the LutherCorp concert and the turnout exceeded everyone's wildest expectations. Hundreds of LA's richest and most famous citizens packed into the SGCC's clubhouse, filling every room and spilling out onto the deck and golf course. Costumes ranged from simple domino masks to elaborate, full-body creations and more than one starlet used the occasion to show off her assets. John hadn't seen so many naked breasts in his life and he'd grown up in _Los Angeles_.

It quickly became clear why Teyla and Ronon were available to help serve that evening: no one in LA needed bodyguards because they were all at the ball. Pegasus Labs had provided an army of security guards for the evening, and no one without an invitation was allowed access. John had been asked to supply a list of his employees, and each member of his crew had to show picture ID before he or she could enter the clubhouse. It was more than a little intimidating.

The party was in full swing before John saw anyone he knew. Shoving a bit harder than absolutely necessary, he made his way over to Zelenka. "Hi Dr. Z. Do you know where Rodney is?"

Zelenka scowled. "Hiding, I suspect, like the craven coward he is."

John glared at him.

Zelenka rolled his eyes, clearly uncowed. "Or, possibly, still at work, as he is a workaholic."

John couldn't exactly argue with that. "Do you know when he's supposed to get here?"

"An hour ago," Zelenka said sourly. Suddenly his expression brightened, and he walked away, waving at someone across the room. "Alan!"

Abandoned, John sighed and headed back to the kitchen. There were too many people for him to be a successful host; he might as well do some good as a waiter.

The only positive aspect of this nightmarish event was the fact that there wasn't a formal dinner. Instead, the walls of both the reception hall and the dining room had been lined with long tables laden with appetizers and bite-sized snacks. Fresh fruit, cheeses, breads and crackers, puffs, pastries, pestos, pies, cookies, cakes, mozzarella sticks, and of course, McKay's favorite meatballs were available in vast quantities. Directors and producers moved around the rooms, eating quickly. Actors and actresses moved around the rooms, looking pretty. Considering the ratios, John figured they weren't in any danger of running out of food. Fortunately, their alcohol supplies were also sufficient, thanks to lessons learned at Thanksgiving. They could float the Titanic in the amount of champagne chilling in the kitchen.

As John made his way through the pack of people, carefully balancing a loaded tray, he did a few discreet spot-checks on his waiters. This was probably the best chance he'd ever have to see how well everyone worked under pressure.

Teyla and Ronon's performances were, of course, flawless. John watched Teyla gracefully turn in a delicate half-pirouette while ducking under the flailing arm of an inebriated (and probably worse) actor; she managed the complicated move without spilling a drop. On the other side of the room, Ronon threaded through the throngs with such casual ease that it was hard to believe that there was barely room in the building to breathe, much less maneuver.

Ronon and Teyla were, by far, the best waiters John had ever seen in all his years in the business. Unfortunately, due to the growing success of their bodyguarding business, this was probably the last time either would ever serve for Atlantis Catering. John might be able to convince the world that he was happy for his siblings, but he couldn't hide his disappointment from himself. He was going to miss having them working at his side.

With a sigh, John turned to see Miko and Lorne in action. Miko was a competent waiter, though she knew her limits and stuck to food trays. It was obvious that she'd rather be in the kitchen, however, and even that was just a temporary position until she graduated. John wondered if Pegasus Labs would be interested in someone fresh out of grad school. The fact that she could cook would certainly help her chances with McKay.

Lorne was more than competent at his job, and he carried his tray of drinks with flair. He also knew how to work the room, smiling and delicately flirting with everyone regardless of gender or appearance and leaving happy patrons in his wake. With Teyla gone and Miko's departure coming up faster than John liked to admit there was a hole in Atlantis's command structure. Lorne might just be the man for the job, his utter lack of respect for his boss notwithstanding.

Daniel and Teal'c's strength lay less in their talents, which were adequate but nothing special, and more in their reliability. They had shown up and been on time every day that they'd worked for Atlantis, and they did their jobs without complaint. Even dishwashing duty. John knew they wouldn't be around forever -- especially Daniel, who was apparently some sort of prodigy and was acing his upper-level archeology classes despite his new full-time job -- but they were an asset to the company and John was grateful to Jack for suggesting them.

Cast, their latest addition, wasn't quite the wunderkind his previous employers had implied, but he was decent enough. Certainly he was being given a baptism by fire. This was the worst possible event for a new employee, and Cast was holding his own. Hopefully he would work out. John was tired of learning new names.

John's inspection of Cast was interrupted by a glimpse of Rodney on the other side of the room. The scientist was wearing a mask that covered most of his face, but John easily read the irritation in Rodney's eyes. Doing his best to smother a grin of relief, John began to dig his way through the crowd.

By the time he reached the opposite wall, however, Rodney was gone. John frowned and turned in a slow circle, trying to guess where the scientist might have gone.

"Excuse me, sir," came a low gravelly voice from just behind John.

"Cast," John said, turning around. Even if he hadn't recognized the voice, he would have known who it was. No one else called John 'sir'. "Is something the matter?"

"Not at all. I was just wondering if you were looking for the gentleman in the blue mask."

Hm. Maybe Cast was a little more talented than John had initially thought. "Actually, I am. Did you see where he went?"

"That way," Cast said, pointing towards an open door. "He said he wanted to see the fourth green."

"Really?" John asked, taken aback. "That's not like him."

"I don't think he liked the crowds."

"Oh. Well that _does_ sound like him. Thanks, Cast." John turned to leave, but a burly hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Maybe you could bring him a drink, sir. It'd clear my tray."

John turned back around to find Cast holding his tray up as if for inspection. As Cast had said, there were only two flutes of champagne left. "You know, that's a good idea. Thanks."

Flutes in hand, John made his way outside and headed to the most distant green on the golf course. Rodney must have really had his fill of people if he was willing to walk this far out to avoid them.

It was getting late at this point, and they were far enough from LA that there wasn't enough artificial light to see by. However, the air was crystal clear, the half-moon overhead was shining bright, and fortunately there wasn't much to trip over in a golf course. John managed to navigate holes one through three without incident, and as he approached the green for hole four he saw a familiar silhouette pacing across the grass.

John smiled at the rush of affection the sight produced and carefully made his way around a sand trap to step up onto the green. "Hey, Rodney."

The silhouette spun around. "John." A foot shuffled the ground. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Of course I came." John moved even closer, until the shadows on Rodney's face solidified into handsome, uncertain features. Rodney had pushed the mask up, so that it was sitting on the top of his head, looking like a very odd hat. "Why would you think I'd leave you out here alone?"

"You're working," Rodney said with a weak attempt at bluster.

"I'm working for _you_," John pointed out with a smile. "But even if I wasn't, I'd still have come."

There was a long silence. "I'm nervous," Rodney admitted softly.

John melted. "Oh, Rodney. There's nothing to be nervous about." Abruptly he remembered the champagne in his hands. "Here, drink this. It'll help."

Rodney took a flute and drained it in one go. John took a couple of gulps himself. It was good champagne, and still cold. "You know we don't have to do it tonight," he said gently. "The offer will still be good tomorrow, or next week, or next year. Whenever you're ready."

"That's...thanks." Rodney made a small grunting sound, and rubbed his eyes with one broad hand. "I think I drank the champagne too fast. I'm not really used to alcohol."

John drained his own glass and set it on the green. After a party like this, someone was going to have to clean the golf course tomorrow anyway. "Come on, let's get you in," he said, wrapping an arm around Rodney's waist. It wasn't just for the scientist's benefit, either. It'd been a while since John had had champagne. He didn't remember it going to his head quite this quickly.

They managed to get off the green before the dizziness became too much. As Rodney's body fell away, John had just enough time to realize that something was very wrong before the ground came rushing up to his face and everything went black.

ooo

John woke up to darkness, his head pounding and still dizzy. "Rodney?" he called, though it came out more as a grunt than anything else.

No response.

With a moan, John flipped over and tried to stand up. The effort was too much and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

ooo

The next time he woke he felt better, though his mouth was dry as cotton and he had a bitch of a headache. Having learned his lesson, John carefully pushed himself up until he was sitting and didn't try anything as complicated as standing. "Hello?" he whispered uncertainly. "Is anyone there?"

A gasp, then: "John?"

"Rodney?"

"Oh, God, they got you too."

John stared into the darkness, his eyes as wide as they could go in an attempt to see something. Anything. But the black was absolute, and he finally sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. Who's 'they'?"

"I don't know for sure. Probably Genii, the sick fuckers." Pause. "Are you hurt?"

John frowned and took a mental inventory. Dry mouth, yes, but no pain. He tapped his legs, just to be sure they were still there. Satisfied, he answered, "No. You?"

"No." A sigh. "John, I'm so sorry."

John shook his head, starting to get angry. Did Rodney apologize this much before he'd met John? If so, John couldn't remember it, and it was painful to think that he might have caused this excessive contrition. "It's not your fault," John snapped, guilt making him speak more harshly than he had intended.

"Yes it is." Rodney sounded weary. "If you hadn't met me, you wouldn't be here right now."

That was probably true, but then if John hadn't met Rodney Atlantis Catering would probably have gone under by now. Of course it was probably gauche to say that out loud. Instead, John murmured, "It was worth it."

"Really?" Rodney asked, sounding painfully hopeful.

Before John could answer there was a loud crash of metal hitting metal, and the room filled with a blinding light. John threw his arm over his eyes, but it was too late -- he couldn't see a thing.

He could still hear, however, and he immediately recognized Cast's voice. "McKay. So good to see you again."

"Kolya," Rodney spat. He sounded furious and terrified.

For the first time, John realized just how deeply dangerous their situation was. They'd been kidnapped from a public party. A party that was crawling with security. And both he and Rodney knew their kidnappers. All of which boiled down to: their kidnappers were highly professional and were confident that that there would be no one left to identify them. Which meant that John and Rodney were going to die here. And it was all John's fault, because he hadn't bothered to ask Zelenka to run a background check.

"Cast...oh, wait, I guess that's not right." John tried to infuse his voice with sarcasm and disdain, but even to him it sounded weak. Right now he had nothing but bravado, however, and he flatly refused to go down silently. "Kolya. I guess I should have seen it earlier -- you were a shitty waiter."

There was a long silence, during which John lowered his arm and found that while his eyes had adjusted to the light, he still couldn't make out the features of his back-lit captors. Their silhouettes were large and burly, however, and John had no doubt that any one of the three men in the doorway could snap his neck like a toothpick.

A quick glance at Rodney assured John that the scientist was unhurt, though he was trembling with fear. John swallowed hard and turned back to Kolya, just in time to hear a chuckle. "Your bravado amuses me," he said.

John curled his hands into impotent fists.

Kolya turned away. "Bring McKay," he commanded, already walking down the hall.

The two remaining thugs stepped inside, and John could hear Rodney's breathing quicken into panting gasps on the verge of hyperventilation. "No, don't," Rodney whimpered. "Please don't."

John's heart broke at the terror in that shaking voice and he did the only thing he could do: he launched himself at the nearest goon.

A second later he crashed into the wall and dropped down to the floor, swatted aside like a pesky fly.

By the time he recovered enough to lift his head, the door was shut and he was once again sitting in the dark. "Rodney?" he whispered, though he knew it was pointless. The scientist was gone.

During the next few minutes, or hours, or days -- damn it, why hadn't he jumped on the indiglo watch fad when he'd had the chance? -- John found himself numbering his regrets. The big ones were obvious and deeply painful: hiring Cast without a full background check; wasting so much of his time with Rodney by being an ass; Alex and all of his behavior when he was with Alex. John shook his head in disgust. Everyone made mistakes, he knew that, but obviously he'd made far more than his fair share and now they'd come back to bite him in the ass. He wasn't the only one paying, however, and that hurt most of all.

After castigating himself for all of his world-class fuckups, John started in on his smaller, more intimate mistakes: not being more accepting of Carson's dad; not spending enough time with Carson in general; allowing himself to get so caught up in work that he never really got the chance to know Aiden; being pissy with Sam, even after he understood she wasn't a threat to his relationship with Rodney.

So many fucking mistakes, and not just with his family and friends. He'd screwed up his own life as well: deciding that going to college part time wouldn't be worth the time or effort; allowing an irrational fear of flying to prevent him from joining the Air Force; not taking up smoking, which meant he didn't even have a fucking _lighter_ on him when he needed it...

Realizing that he was becoming a bit hysterical, John forcibly stopped that train of thought and focused on his breathing. In and out. In and out. Slow. Deep.

Once he had regained some semblance of control, John sat back against the wall and considered his position. Short version? Shitty. Locked in a dark room in an unknown building in an unknown location, with an unknown number of large, burly, scary guards. Who apparently knew kung-fu, if the earlier assault on John was any indication.

Since John was lacking weapons, ammunition, and military training, his current options were highly limited. He couldn't shoot his way out, he couldn't fight his way out. But maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to _think_ his way out.

With that in mind, John began to methodically gather information. First step, check the room. John slowly walked around the edge, keeping the tips of his fingers on the wall and moving carefully so he wouldn't trip over anything in the darkness. He quickly found the door, which was locked, and verified that there were no other obvious exit points. There was also no furniture or fixtures -- nothing that could be used as a weapon.

Moving his hand higher John retraced his steps around the room, looking for a vent, a window, anything. Then again, higher, and again, until he was reaching as high as he could and still he found nothing. Undaunted, he began yet another circuit, this time with his hand at waist-level and slowly moving lower. There had to be _something_ here, if only John could find it.

He'd lost track of the number of times he'd circled the room when the door suddenly slammed open. Before John had a chance to react, a large body was tossed into the room and the door slammed back shut. Swearing fluently, John hurried forward and found the body by tripping over it. Rodney didn't make a sound as John's toes hit his ribs, and John went cold with fear.

"Rodney?" he whispered, finding Rodney's head by touch and carefully shifting until most of the scientist was curled up in John's lap. "Rodney, can you hear me?"

No noise, but now that he had Rodney in his arms John could feel a sticky wetness against one hand and the coppery scent of blood filled the air. Oh, shit. "Rodney?" John said, louder, trying hard to clamp down on his rising panic and not being entirely successful. "Rodney!"

A moan. John's breath caught and held as he listened and the moan came again, this time accompanied by a full-body twitch. John closed his eyes against tears and murmured, "Rodney, it's okay. Shh, shhhh. It's okay, Rodney. I've got you now. It's all okay."

Rodney began to tremble. John tightened his grip further and continued to murmur meaningless assurances as Rodney shook and gasped and finally began to cry.

A long, indeterminate time later, Rodney stilled and John was able to put voice to the desperate question that had been racing through his head. "You're bleeding, Rodney. What happened? Where are you hurt?"

Rodney groaned and buried his face in John's neck so that when he spoke his voice was muffled by John's skin. "It's my arm. They cut my arm."

John closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Is it bad?" he whispered.

"Not really," Rodney whispered, his voice getting thick. "Not really bad at all. But bad enough." He sobbed, once. "I broke, John. One little cut and I broke."

"Oh, God, Rodney," John said, helplessly. "It's not your fault. It's not your fault at all. This isn't your job. Resisting torture does not fall under your fucking job description."

Rodney's broken sobs quieted down a bit, and John seized the opportunity to change the subject away from Rodney's unreasonable guilt. "What do they want, anyway? Why did they take us?"

It took a few shuddering breaths, but when Rodney answered, his voice was almost steady. "It's the new project, the one with the government. They wanted access codes and details of the research."

John frowned. "Are you trying to tell me that Genii is committing multiple felonies just because they lost out on a government project?"

"What we're researching...John, it's amazing stuff. World-changing. Profitable, maybe, powerful without question, but in the wrong hands it can be very, very dangerous." Rodney shifted a little, until he was sitting more or less upright, though he remained close to John. "I knew that what we had was amazing, but it never occurred to me that people would kill for access." He sighed. "Looking back, that should have been obvious."

"Nothing about what's going on is obvious," John said flatly. "And none of it is your fault. Do you hear me, Rodney? _None_ of this is your fault."

Before Rodney could answer, the door flew open again. Kolya and his two goons were back and this time there was no attempt at conversation. Kolya simply commanded, "Bring them," and walked away.

John tried to fight, but all it got him was a blow to the head and another trip to unconsciousness.

ooo

When he came to, he was in a small, white room, tied to a straight-backed chair. In front of him was Rodney, also tied. To the right was a small table, covered with small silver and blue toys. To the left was Koyla and a new goon, this one approximately the size of a mountain. John didn't see a door.

Kolya and Rodney appeared to be in the middle of an argument, because Rodney was ranting: "--course they changed the codes, they aren't idiots! The first thing that anyone with half a brain would do is change the codes!"

Koyla bent down until his face was looming over Rodney's. Rodney leaned back as far as he could in the chair, looking disturbed and frightened. "For the sake of your friend, I hope you are mistaken," Koyla said menacingly.

That didn't sound good.

The next interminable stretch of time was easily the worst of John's life, even taking into account his parents' death and the end of his affair with Alex. Kolya's thug worked over John's body with an efficiency that spoke of considerable experience and by the time he was done John felt like one deep, massive, throbbing bruise. Almost as bad as the physical pain, however, was listening to Rodney plead and cry for Kolya to stop the beating, to let John go, swearing that he had already told everything he knew, even offering to take John's place in the torture seat. And all John could do was try to roll with the punches, completely unsuccessfully as he hadn't been trained for this anymore than Rodney had.

Finally, it ended. John sat there, incapable of even raising his head, not that he would have been able to see anything anyway since both of his eyes were swollen shut. The sickening salty tang of blood filled his mouth and faced with the prospect of trying to choke the liquid down, John chose instead to open his jaw, feeling the hot fluid stream out onto his leg. Even after the accumulation was gone, he was still bleeding enough to cause a constant dripping and John flinched each time he heard blood splash down wetly into blood.

In the other chair, Rodney was hyperventilating again, his hash breathing full of tears and snot. "John?" he whispered.

John tried to answer him, really he did, but right now nothing in his body was responding. All he could do was sit there in his chair and pray that this would be over soon.

"I'm afraid Mr. Sheppard doesn't look very good," Kolya said mockingly. "Of course, caterers aren't known for their fortitude."

"Please," Rodney said desperately. "Please, I'll tell you what you want to know. Just don't hurt him any more."

"The codes," Kolya snarled.

"I don't have them!" Rodney cried. "I swear to you I don't."

There was a long, terrifying pause. "We'll come back to that later. For now, there is a way for you to redeem yourself. And, perhaps, to help your friend." There was a scraping sound, like two hard substances rubbing against each other. John guessed that Kolya had picked up one of the toys from the table. "This artifact. What does it do?"

Another long pause, and John found his heart pounding away in his chest as he waited for Rodney's answer. He would like to be strong, to be able to tell Rodney to be silent, to let the beating continue, but the truth was that John didn't think he could survive another attack like the last one. He couldn't survive being brave.

Rodney finally spoke, his voice low and shattered. "I don't know. We...we haven't been able to figure out how to turn the artifacts on."

"You know, I don't think I believe you," Kolya said thoughtfully. John heard a couple of soft slapping sounds, like a rock being tossed in the air and caught again. "This is rather heavy. It may serve another purpose."

Without any other warning, John felt a heavy fist impact his face. It was a hundred times worse than before, like being punched by a steel ball, and the force of the blow very nearly knocked the chair over.

It took several seconds for John to recover enough to tune back into his surroundings, just in time to hear Kolya say, "What the fuck?"

"I don't know," Rodney said quickly. "I've never seen an artifact light up like that before."

John somehow found the strength to raise his head and open his eyes as far as they would go -- i.e., narrow slits. It was enough, however, to see the small, round toy in Koyla's hand, which was emitting a steady, glowing blue light. John stared for a moment, before asking inanely, "Did I do that?"

John immediately regretted his words as every head in the room turned toward him. Unable to look directly at Kolya or the anonymous tormentor, John instead focused his attention on Rodney, who was staring back at him, desperation and fear and regret written all over his tear-stained face. _I'm sorry,_ he mouthed silently. _I'm so sorry._

John tried to smile back reassuringly. It wasn't a very successful smile, but it was worth it to see Rodney try to smile back. They were going to survive this, John decided. He wasn't sure how, but damnit, they were going to survive.

"Perhaps you did," Kolya said after the long perusal. "We may have gotten more of a prize than we had anticipated."

He turned to the table to pick up another toy, and immediately dropped it as the entire room shook. The motion was accompanied by a booming noised that sounded a lot like an explosion.

The world went mad: more explosions followed, Koyla pulled out a walkie-talkie and started barking orders, gunfire could be heard from somewhere else in the building. John kept his eyes on Rodney, taking heart in the scientist's burgeoning hope.

Kolya tersely commanded the tormenter to stand guard over John and Rodney and then went out of John's line of sight, presumably in the direction of the door. John heard the fleshy thump of a punch landing and had time to see Rodney's eyes go very wide just before a lovely face filled his vision.

"Teyla," John murmured.

"Yes, John," she said, her hands doing something to the ropes that made them loosen. "We're here to take you home."

John somehow found a smile. "Thank you," he murmured.

Teyla might have answered, but John was already unconscious.

ooo

He woke up in the car, to the sound of Rodney's voice. "--did you find us?"

"Actually, it was Vala who found you." That voice sounded a little like Aiden.

John blinked and lifted his head a little to see over the back of the car seat. It _was_ Aiden.

"I don't know what she did exactly," Aiden said. "But she says you owe her two grand."

"Well, if she did what I think she did--"

John slipped back under before he could find out what Vala might have done.

ooo

The next time John woke, he was in a strange bed, in a strange room, looking at the utterly familiar visage of a worried Carson. "Hey," John croaked.

Some of the worry faded away. "It's good to see you up, John," he said softly. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit."

"I'm not surprised," Carson said dryly. "I've done what I can, but we're working on getting a real doctor in here. Someone we know is safe."

"Okay," John croaked. If his family figured a hospital wasn't safe, John wasn't going to argue with them.

Glancing around the room, John realized that his was the only bed. "Where's Rodney?" he asked, his voice rising a little in panic.

"He's safe," Carson said quickly. "Just asleep, in the next room. He stayed up all night, hoping you'd wake up."

John let his head drop back down to his pillow. All night? "What time is it? Where are we?"

Before Carson could answer, the bedroom door burst open and the entire Sheppard clan -- plus Jack, Carter, and Zelenka -- tromped in. Tears, smiles, and hugs abounded.

John tried to hide the fact that all of the noise was giving him a horrible headache.

He apparently wasn't very successful, because Teyla suddenly cleared her throat loudly. "All right, everyone, that's enough. John needs his rest." She and Ronon did a bit of pushing and prodding to make sure everyone got the right idea, and soon the room was empty of everyone but Carson and Teyla.

As Carson began checking John's bandages, Teyla sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sure you're confused right now, John, but I promise you everything is all right."

John blinked back a sudden rush of tears. Despite being asleep for what sounded like a long time and despite his current safety, at the moment John felt exhausted and anxious. Even Teyla's comforting presence wasn't enough to make him feel truly secure.

Of course, he couldn't say that out loud, so once he was sure of his voice, he asked the expected question: "What happened?"

Teyla took John's hand and held it as she launched into an incredible story about how she had gotten worried when John and Rodney had disappeared halfway through the party without telling anyone, especially since Cast had disappeared around the same time and Rodney's Porsche was still in valet parking. About how she, Zelenka, and Carter (who was brought in because she was apparently a VIP with regards to the DST project) had come up with likely suspects with the Genii Corporation obviously being at the top of the list. About how Zelenka had solicited Vala's help in getting John and Rodney's location out of Cowen, though no one knew or wanted to know exactly how that information was procured. About how Aiden and Laura, with the help of Rollie and Angie, created a diversion to draw the security away from the building by blowing up a large scale model of the hotel room from the Rod Johnson movie (even better, the demolition was legal, as Miko had somehow produced a permit that allowed them to carry out the explosion in an empty lot right next to the Genii building). About how Teyla and Ronon, with an assist from Ginny, had stormed the building, armed with rubber bullets and tranquilizer guns (just in case Genii tried to get the law involved). About how Carson and Miko had driven the runaway vehicles and how they'd all ended up in Dr. Beckett's Napa Valley villa, which no one outside of the family knew about and so was an ideal safehouse.

John sat there and listened and absorbed. Once he was sure Teyla was finished, he opened his mouth and said, "Wow."

Teyla smiled. "Indeed."

John was debating whether or not he wanted to know the answer to 'what now?' when the door burst open again, this time to admit Rodney. John let out a horribly embarrassing whimper, but immediately felt a hundred times better when Rodney, without preamble, lifted the sheets, crawled in, and wrapped himself around John.

"Hey," John said tenderly, working one hand free and using it to brush through Rodney's hair. "How're you feeling?"

"Better, now that you're awake." Rodney nuzzled John's chest. "How do you feel?"

John smiled and delicately pressed his battered lips to the top of Rodney's head. "Just peachy, now that you're in my bed."

Rodney looked up at that, and after a moment smiled in return. John leaned down for a careful kiss that Rodney returned with aching gentleness, as if he were afraid that John would break.

When they parted, John smiled again and touched his forehead to Rodney's, just as the scientist put a hand over his mouth to cover a yawn. "How about a quick nap?" John suggested, his smile turning into a smirk.

"Okay," Rodney said agreeably, settling down deeper into the bed and snuggling up even closer.

John glanced around the room to find that Teyla and Carson had already made a discreet exit. Not for the first time, he thought about how fucking awesome his family was.

That thought warmed him as he draped his free arm over Rodney's chest and buried his nose in Rodney's neck. After just a few moments, John fell asleep to the sounds of Rodney's gentle snores.

ooo

A few hours later Sam produced a Dr. Janet Fraiser, who had lovely eyes, a bright smile, and a dizzying array of portable medical equipment. Carson hovered to one side and watched with avid fascination as Janet gave John a thorough medical exam. When she was done confirming that there were no broken bones or internal bleeding, she handed John a bottle of tiny white pills and instructed him to use them as needed for pain. John shook the bottle tentatively, and decided to wait till he was alone in the room.

Rodney came next, and since he refused to let John out of his sight John got to watch the examination. According to Carson, the 'little cut' had been four inches long and almost deep enough to expose the bone. Janet inspected the wound closely, promised Rodney a full recovery (and an impressive scar to show off at parties), and praised Carson for the neatness of his stitches (twenty-five in all). Carson blushed and blustered, but John could tell he was pleased.

They remained at the villa for nearly a week, most of which John spent asleep. Rodney remained glued to John's side, only leaving to use the bathroom and to occasionally beg food from Miko. Though he didn't know how to say it out loud, John was grateful for the company, and he found there was nothing he liked more than waking up to Rodney's gentle kisses.

The nightmares started the second night and John jerked awake again and again, covered in sweat and gasping. He refused to talk about them when Rodney asked, and when everyone assumed he was dreaming about the torture, John didn't correct them.

Once the Genii threat had been eliminated (John didn't know how and he didn't care, though Rodney looked disturbingly satisfied after a quiet conference with Carter) and John was well enough to walk on his own (though every step hurt, and he ended up taking more painkillers than he felt comfortable with, though not enough to make Rodney happy), they left Napa Valley. Unfortunately, thanks to another conference between Carter and Rodney, this one involving words like 'possible biochemical trigger' and 'human on/off switch', John wasn't going straight back to LA. Instead, Carter was taking John and Rodney to some sort of military base/science lab in Colorado while sending Jack and the rest of the Sheppard family home.

At least, that had been the original plan. Teyla quickly made it clear that John wasn't going anywhere without his family, and she and Ronon had the weaponry to back it up. Of course, Carter had the entire US Air Force on her side, and she threatened to use it, until Carson cleared his throat and hinted that he might possibly have implanted John and Rodney with tracking devices while stitching up their wounds. Miko suggested that any attempt to remove John without her might result in sensitive information unfortunately being leaked to the press. Laura and Aiden simply disabled all of the cars.

Finally, Rodney pointed out that the family had a right to know what was going on and, when Sam stared at him in disbelief, shrugged and pointed out that whatever made John able to turn on the alien technology might be environmental in origin and thus might have affected the rest of the Sheppard family as well. Carter looked thoughtful after that. John tried to pretend he hadn't just heard a serious discussion involving the words 'alien technology'.

Once Carter agreed to the Sheppard family coming along, it wasn't hard for Jack to get permission as well. He simply got into a car and refused to get out. Sam threw up her hands and announced that she was blaming all of this on Rodney. Rodney looked pleased.

John spent most of the trip curled up against Rodney's side, with Rodney's strong arms holding him close. Zelenka sat in the front seat and he and Rodney talked incessantly about the project and about what they might see at their destination, which apparently they'd heard about, but never had a chance to visit. John tried to pay attention, but the painkillers made him fuzzy and several times he caught himself napping.

The SGC -- and that was going to get confusing, even if the base looked nothing at all like the Sagebrush Grove Country Club -- was buried in the bottom of a mountain, and everyone, including Rodney and Zelenka, had to sign stacks of paperwork before they were even allowed past the front doors. John signed each page without bothering to read it; Rodney read everything down to the fine print, and asked myriad questions. No one said anything about the scientist's caution, though John noticed that Zelenka didn't sign anything until after Rodney had declared the documents acceptable.

Once inside, Carter led them into a conference room where she introduced General Landry (base commander) and Major Davis (who had a long title that John translated to 'PR guy') and proceeded to tell them a fantastic tale that sounded suspiciously like the plot of the Wormhole X-Treme pilot (one of the many shows John had enjoyed that had only lasted a single episode). John just shook his head as Sam told them about grey aliens, parasitic aliens, invisible aliens, replicating aliens, and even aliens that evolved into humans before _humans_ evolved into humans. On top of that, there was the instantaneous interstellar travel, massive alien wars, multiple alien attacks on Earth, and oh yes, time travel. _Lots_ of time travel.

Rodney and Zelenka looked thoughtful, Aiden and Miko asked lots of questions, and Teyla and Ronon kept reaching for weapons that had been confiscated at the front door. John just dropped his head onto his crossed arms and tried not to moan.

At the end of the briefing, Teyla asked, "Why did you tell us this?"

No one answered the question, though John noticed a disturbing number of eyes were pointed in his direction.

After the briefing John and company were escorted to a large, sterile-looking lab filled with silver and blue toys of varying sizes. John, who was standing so close to Rodney that they bumped shoulders each time one of them moved, immediately tried to leave. He made it as far as the hallway before Rodney caught up and pulled him into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," John whispered into Rodney's neck. "I can't do this."

"It's okay," Rodney said. "They can't get to you here. There are a hundred obscenely well-armed marines standing around with the sole purpose of protecting you."

"Doesn't matter," John groaned. "Not any more. I don't feel safe. I don't think I'll ever feel safe again."

"I know exactly how you feel," Rodney answered, gently. "To be taken like that, so easily, when you never even knew you were in danger..."

"Yeah," John said hoarsely. "Exactly."

They held each other for a long time, long enough that Jack came out to check on them. "Everything all right out here?"

"We're fine," John lied as they separated, because even with the best of intentions Jack couldn't help with this. "Still need us in the lab?"

It was obvious that Jack wasn't buying John's dismissal, but he simply nodded in reply and stepped aside so John and Rodney could face the toys. "I'm sorry," Sam said, as soon as they entered. "I didn't think. We've been testing everyone, ever since Rodney told us about what happened. The whole base has been--"

"Never mind," John cut in. "Can we just get it over with?"

Five minutes later, Rodney was hyperventilating with joy as John, Jack, Miko, Laura, and Carson all managed to make the toys glow simply by touching them. "Don't you realize what this means?" Rodney asked when John didn't demonstrate the appropriate level of enthusiasm.

John shook his head.

Rodney launched into a complicated theory about biochemicals and proximity and alien technology. John tuned him out after a couple of sentences, and he knew he wasn't the only one, though Zelenka, Sam, and Miko all appeared to be following closely. It was probably fascinating stuff, but John's whole body ached, he'd just learned that aliens did, in fact, exist, and to top it all off, the Sheppard family (and Jack) were apparently the only people on Earth capable of activating a whole collection of unidentified alien technology.

"Maybe you were modified at the cellular level by the same beings who created the technology," Rodney suggested thoughtfully at the end of his explanation. He turned to John. "Does your family have a history of alien abduction?"

John groaned and dropped his forehead on Rodney's shoulder. "I want to go home," he moaned, so far gone that he didn't even care that he sounded like a petulant child.

Warm, comforting arms wrapped around John's back. "Okay," Rodney said gently. "We can do that."

ooo

It wasn't that simple, of course. There were debriefings, and meetings, and more forms to be signed and John was starting to fear that they were going to be spending the night in that claustrophobic prison, buried under the weight of a mountain, when Rodney stood up and said, "Enough. You know where we live, and since I'm sure we're going to be under twenty-four hour surveillance for the next forever, you can track us down later if there's anything you forgot to ask us this time. I'm tired, John's hurt, and Radek's ready to go."

Zelenka smiled beatifically at Sam and said nothing. Rodney crossed his arms and glowered. Teyla and Ronon came up behind John and, judging from the shuffling noises, the rest of the Sheppard family soon followed.

Sam took the rebuke well. "Not a problem at all. You've been really great, especially considering the circumstances. Thank you. Sergeant Harriman will show you out." She turned to Jack with a smile. "I'll see you next week."

John took a pain pill and napped most of the way home. Normally he would have felt guilty for not helping with the driving, but after the last week he felt he deserved to be chauffeured. Rodney sat in the back seat with John, also apparently guilt free.

Teyla took them to Rodney's house, primarily because the mansion had far better security than the Sheppard family home. She and Ronon swept the house while John and Rodney waited in the foyer, leaning on each other for support. John wasn't entirely sure what was going on through Rodney's mind, but as for himself, he was trying to work out just how much sex they could manage before passing out in exhaustion. It had been over a week, and John desperately needed to feel that intimacy again.

"It's clean," Teyla announced.

"It'd better be," Rodney said darkly, no doubt thinking of the retinal scanner.

"Thanks, Teyla," John said, far more graciously.

"Ronon and I will take the guest room," Teyla added.

"What?" Rodney yelped.

John opened his mouth, but then closed it without speaking. He wasn't sure what to feel right now. Privacy would be nice, of course, especially considering what he and Rodney were probably going to be doing in the next ten minutes. On the other hand, the thought of Teyla and Ronon being within shouting distance was reassuring. He turned his best puppy dog eyes on Rodney. "Maybe just for tonight?"

Rodney turned to stare at him. John batted his eyelashes for good measure. Rodney stammered, "That's just...that's...that's blackmail."

John widened his eyes winsomely. "Please?"

Rodney crossed his arms and scowled. "You're pathetic, you know that?"

John sighed and dropped the act. "I'd feel safer with them here," he admitted.

"Then why didn't you just say so in the first place?" Rodney asked, sounding exasperated. He shook his head. "And Radek says _I_ have a problem with communication."

Ronon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

John glared at him.

Ronon looked back innocently.

"Can we go to bed now?" John asked plaintively.

"That's the best idea you've had all night," Rodney said with a grin. He pointed Teyla and Ronon to a room down the hall, on the opposite end of the mansion from the master suite. "You can take that room."

Now it was Ronon's turn to cross his arms. It looked much more intimidating on him. "What if you need help?" Teyla asked.

"Trust me, if we need help, you'll hear it," Rodney answered easily, already nudging John toward the bedroom. "There's a panic button in my room." He shoved John into the suite and leaned back to add, "Night!" before following and closing the door tightly behind them.

"Feeling frisky?" John asked, happy that he'd gotten his way about Teyla, but even more happy for the privacy. His last pain pill had kicked in and he had at least a couple of hours before the fuzziness hit. Right now he felt like the king of the world, looking right at his greatest treasure.

Rodney's answer was to launch himself at John, wrapping around him like an octopus and making a credible attempt at devouring John's mouth, though he was clearly holding back for fear of hurting John's still-healing lip. John gave back as good as he got, at the same time dragging Rodney back toward the bed. It had been far too long since the last time they'd made love.

Through a bit of not-so-subtle manipulation, John ended up on the bottom, grinning up at Rodney. "I've missed you."

"You haven't left my sight in over a week," Rodney pointed out.

John rolled his eyes and wrapped his legs around Rodney's waist. "I missed being alone with you."

"Oh," Rodney said, sounding pleased. "Me too." He reached over to the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of Wet and a condom, then settled back down on John, looking nervous. "So, uh..."

John frowned. "What's up?"

Rodney cleared his throat. "You remember what...of course you remember. Well, I'm ready. I thought about it a lot over the last few days, and I _don't_ want to wait. I want to do it now."

It was a testament to how much time John had spent around Rodney in the last few months that that speech made total sense. He'd kind of hoped that Rodney had changed his mind, because right now John desperately wanted to feel Rodney's hot cock filling him up and making him whole. He wasn't going to say that out loud, however. Not now. If Rodney needed this, then John would give it to him.

Taking the lube and condom and setting them safely to one side, John flipped them over so that Rodney was underneath. After a moment's consideration, John stepped off the bed to undress, taking it slow, turning it into a tease. Rodney's nostrils flared at the sight and excitement started to edge out the tension in his eyes.

Once John was down to bare skin, he moved back onto the bed to strip Rodney, again working slowly, kissing each bit of skin as it was exposed. Rodney relaxed a little more with each touch and he was purring by the time he was completely naked.

John smiled, pleased, and grabbed the lube. Once his fingers were slick, John went down on Rodney's cock, taking it deep into his throat. Rodney arched like a bow, which wasn't quite what John had intended; he had to wait for Rodney to return to the bed before he could try and press a finger in. The operative word being 'try'. John pushed a little harder without any success. With a frown he lifted his head off of Rodney's groin. "Rodney?"

"I'm sorry," Rodney said, his entire body suffused with a blush. "I just can't seem to forget last time."

John glowered. "You know, if I ever meet that guy in a dark alley--"

Rodney covered his face with his hands and John cut himself off. That kind of anger didn't belong in this bed. It wasn't Rodney's fault that his first time had been with a selfish, inconsiderate asshole. "It's okay," John said gently. "I have an idea." And with no more warning than that, John bent his head over Rodney's groin to finish what he'd started.

By the time John had driven Rodney to a resounding climax -- actual howling had been involved; John spared a moment to hope Teyla and Ronon hadn't heard that -- Rodney's body had all of the tension of a wet noodle. John's fingers went in easily and he smiled encouragingly at Rodney as he searched for Rodney's prostate.

Rodney suddenly jerked and moaned. John grinned. Bullseye. "You like that?" he murmured. Rodney moaned again.

Figuring Rodney wasn't going to get much looser than this, John slicked on a condom and gently nudged Rodney's side. "Come on, Rodney, I need you to turn over."

Without a word of protest, Rodney rolled onto his stomach. "God this feels good," he mumbled into the sheets, his hips lifting to accommodate the pillow John was pushing under him.

"Ready?" John asked, positioning himself.

"Mmm," Rodney said, thrusting his hips back.

John shook his head and began to push in. The moment the head of his cock breached the first ring of muscle, Rodney's head popped up. "Oh."

John froze. "You okay?"

"Um...yes. I think. Give me a second." And then he _wriggled_.

John groaned, closed his eyes, and counted to one hundred by primes. Once he had regained some semblance of control, he opened his eyes again and asked in a voice harsh with need, "Okay?"

"Yeah," Rodney said happily, sinking back down into the pillows. John pushed a little further. Rodney started purring again, so John figured he was okay to go all the way in.

They quickly found a rhythm, one much slower and more deliberate than when Rodney topped, but sweet nonetheless. John discovered that topping could be a far more intimate act than he had ever imagined, far deeper and more personal than anything he had offered his tricks in those angry post-Alex years. Then it had been a matter of getting off, and having the common courtesy to make sure his partner had a good time. Now, though, now it was all about Rodney: the small hitches of Rodney's breath with each thrust, the slick sweat that beaded up on Rodney's back, the sweet clench of Rodney's ass around John's cock.

As John felt his climax coming, he reached around to take Rodney's dick in hand and was surprised to find it hard and leaking. Pressing a kiss to the middle of Rodney's back, John began to jerk Rodney off in time with John's thrusts. It only took a minute more before they were both coming together, their shouts mingling in the air.

Exhausted, John collapsed on top of Rodney, physically and emotionally drained. He would have liked nothing more than to go to sleep right then and there, but he knew they both would regret that in the morning. With a groan, he dragged himself out of bed, tossed the condom, and went to the bathroom to wet a washcloth.

By the time he and Rodney were relatively clean and curled up together under the blanket, John was ready to sleep for a year. He was just about there, too, when Rodney spoke, the scientist's own words heavy with imminent sleep: "I was wrong. I'm a bottom."

"You can't be a bottom," John protested blearily. "I'm a bottom."

"No you're not. You told me you were a top."

"I _was_ a...can we talk about this in the morning?"

"Okay," Rodney mumbled. "We'll work it out."

John would have agreed, but he was already asleep.

Epilogue

John wasn't terribly surprised to discover that Rodney could dance; it seemed like something Zelenka would have made Rodney learn how to do. He _was_ surprised, however, when Rodney agreed to dance with John in front of a large number of people at the Valentine's Day Ball. With minimal complaint, even.

"All right," John said with eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What did you do?"

Rodney glared at him. "I didn't do anything. And I resent the implication that any effort I put into this relationship must be motivated by guilt."

"Uh-huh," John said doubtfully. They danced a few more steps. "Okay then, what do you want?"

"Well, now that you mention it..." Rodney leaned in close to whisper in John's ear. "Any chance I can bottom tonight?"

"Absolutely not," John said immediately. "You got to last time."

"But it's Valentine's Day," Rodney whined.

"It's Valentine's Day for me, too," John pointed out.

They danced a few more steps, Rodney sulking and John doing his damndest not to give in. It was _his turn_ damn it. Rodney was just going to have to accept that fact, no matter how blue his eyes looked when he was sulking.

"Tomorrow's Sunday," Rodney said abruptly. "I don't have to work on Sunday."

"But you usually do it anyway," John retorted. This was a sore point between them, though at least Rodney had cut back to half days on the weekend.

"But I don't _have_ to." Rodney leaned closer. "Maybe we can _both_ bottom."

John grinned down at his scientist. "Now I see why everyone calls you a genius, McKay."

"Well, of course," Rodney said. "What else would they call me?"

John was saved from having to answer by a discreet cough. He turned around to find Kate Heightmeyer just behind him. "Hey, Kate," he said with a smile, even as he felt Rodney stiffen.

"Dr. Heightmeyer," Rodney said coldly.

John shook his head in silent apology. Rodney was still upset over the recent revelation that Dr. Kate Heightmeyer, a psychologist, had been planted at Pegasus to evaluate the mental stability and moral resiliency of the laboratory's employees as part of the selection process for the DST project. Kate seemed to be taking Rodney's bitterness in stride. After all, it could have been worse: the psychologists at the two other companies vying for the project had not faired as well. Dr. Curtis Goldman had died in a tragic car accident just before submitting his report on Genii Corporation and, while investigating LuthorCorp LA, Dr. Janice Skelton had suffered an industrial accident involving radioactive green goo that had apparently turned her psychic. And insane.

John figured Rodney would be less upset if he'd been allowed to read Kate's report, but Rodney's increasingly sophisticated search programs proved that the report had been buried so deep that even Rodney couldn't hack his way to it. So, Rodney remained cold and bitter. Personally, John liked Kate. Which was a good thing, because he was seeing her a couple of times a week to help work through what had happened with Kolya, and he doubted he was going to be cured any time soon.

"I just wanted to thank you for the invitation," Kate said, giving both John and Rodney a smile.

"Don't thank me," Rodney said sourly. "It was entirely John's fault. Ow!"

John removed his elbow from Rodney's side. "I'm glad you could come," John told Kate sincerely.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Rodney muttered something that sounded distinctly uncomplimentary and John had to control his urge to elbow him again.

"Oh, look," Kate said. "Meatballs. Over there." Sometimes John loved her. "I'll talk to you later," she added, touching John's arm lightly. "It was nice seeing you again. You, too, Dr. McKay."

"Bye now!" Rodney said perkily, dancing them both away before John could say anything.

"You should be more polite," John said, even though he knew it was a lost cause.

"Just because she's your shrink, doesn't mean I have to like her."

"And if she's my friend?"

Rodney leaned back to pin John with a horrified look. "You're friends with a shrink?"

John just glared back.

"Okay, fine," Rodney huffed. "I'll try to play nice."

John's glare quickly melted into a smile. "Thank you," he said, kissing Rodney lightly on the lips.

"Humph," Rodney said, but he pulled John closer, until they were dancing cheek to cheek.

As they moved around the room, John picked out familiar faces in the crowd. Sam and Jack were sitting at a table, feeding each other bits of food and otherwise being horrifically mushy. John suspected they were doing it for Rodney's benefit, though Rodney continued to insist that he couldn't care less about the whole affair. Considering how often Rodney glanced that way, John wasn't convinced. He'd decided not to be jealous, however, as he knew Rodney wasn't interested in straying.

Zelenka was standing in a small group that included Senator Weir. Seeing as Weir hadn't even been on the invitation list for the evening, John figured the Czech might be making some progress. He certainly hoped so -- it would give Zelenka something to think about other than John and Rodney's relationship.

Teyla and Ronon were stationed on opposite ends of the room, dressed in their usual work uniform of all black. They'd been hired full time by Pegasus Labs as specialized bodyguards for VIP employees working on sensitive projects. At the moment, that meant Rodney and, by association, John. Since Teyla and Ronon had no intention of letting anyone else watch over their eldest brother, the situation worked out for the best for everyone.

Working the catering side of the evening were Lorne, Daniel, Teal'c, Miko, and Ben Hawkins [15], the latest fill-in. Hawkins wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer and he'd had a few hygiene issues (Miko was working on that), but he worked hard and seemed grateful for the job. More importantly, he'd already lasted two whole weeks. John really, really hoped this one would work out.

Early in February Miko had officially received an offer of an internship at Pegasus Labs. She'd discussed it with John first, but there was no question as to whether she would take it. Tonight was her last catering event. Jonas was already scouting for an assistant chef and attempting to cajole Miko into giving up her recipes.

The same day that Miko accepted the internship, John had formally named Lorne his second-in-command. They still had to work on that whole 'respect for the boss' issue, but John felt confident that the company would be in safe hands if anything ever happened to him.

Laura and Aiden sat at a corner table with Rod Johnson, Rollie, and Angie. Filming for their movie had ended a week before, and all of them were taking a break before their next project. Laura and Aiden had already received several offers of second unit effects work and even an offer of first unit work on a small budget project. They were going to be very busy for the foreseeable future.

Carson was not at the ball, though he had been invited. Earlier that week, he had told John that he was accepting his father's offer of a job in Scotland. John had tried his best to be happy for his brother, but it was a blow and he knew that Carson had seen his disappointment. John was giving them both a couple of days to calm down before going over to talk.

Rodney's voice pulled John away from his thoughts. "John, there's something else."

John held Rodney a little tighter, reveling in the feel of having Rodney in his arms in public. "What?"

"I named something after you. Not directly after you, because that's kind of tacky, but still... I think you'll be happy with my choice."

John smiled. "Was it something special?"

"Special doesn't even begin to describe it." Rodney took a deep breath. "It's--I guess you could say it's a miracle. Or, at the very least, extraordinary. Fantastic. Amazing."

"Then I'm happy you named it after me," John said, nuzzling Rodney's suit. The scientist may be a snarky bastard, but sometimes he could be surprisingly sweet.

"There's more," Rodney said, and John could hear the tension and excitement thrumming in his voice.

John leaned back. "What? Is something wrong?"

"No," Rodney said quickly. "Just the opposite, but I can't give you all of the details. Not now. Not here. You'll hear about it tomorrow, anyway. That's when the recruiters are scheduled to meet with you."

Now John was starting to freak out. "What the hell are you talking about, Rodney? What details? What recruiters?"

Rodney shook his head. "I can't tell you, John, I swear I can't. All I can do is ask something of you. Something that I want you to keep in mind tomorrow when you're approached. Will you do that? For me?"

What could John possibly say to that? "Of course, Rodney. I'll be happy to listen to anything you have to say."

Rodney beamed at John, and glanced around the room. When he was sure no one was watching, he pulled John close enough to whisper in his ear: "Come with me."

John blinked. "Come where?"

"To Atlantis."

Fin

Potato Filling Recipe:  
1 5-lb bag of potatoes  
1/2 loaf of white bread, cubed -OR- 1 bag of bread cubes  
1 small cooking onion  
3 stalks celery  
2-1/2 sticks of butter  
8 eggs  
Poultry seasoning, salt, pepper, and parsley to taste

Skin potatoes, boil till soft, and mash with two sticks of butter. Set aside. Heat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Mince celery and onion and add poultry seasoning, salt, and pepper to taste. Saute with remaining butter until translucent. Add bread and saute until bread is browned. Stir into potatoes and add parsley. Add eggs and mix well. Bake, uncovered, for one hour.

Footnotes:

1: Aeryn Sun is a character from _Farscape_, an excellent series from the Sci-Fi Channel that was filmed in Australia and featured muppets (yes, really). She was played by Claudia Black, who plays Vala Mal Doran on _Stargate SG-1_.

2: I'm sure everyone knows that Lex Luthor is the evil billionaire _spawn_ of evil (that would be Lionel Luthor), except in the show _Smallville_, where he's just misunderstood. The boy in question is Clark Kent aka Superman aka alien savior of truth, justice, and the American way. Except in _Smallville_, where he's just an alien who happens to have an enormous crush on his best friend (i.e., Lex Luthor). Clark is played by Tom Welling and Lex is played by Michael Rosenbaum.

3: Cameron Mitchell (from _SG-1_) is played by Ben Browder, who previously played John Crichton, hero of _Farscape_.

4: The wildly exuberant Hiro Nakamura is one of the most popular characters on the new, highly-rated series _Heroes_. He is played by Masi Oka.

5: Blair Sandburg is the charming, brilliant, and bouncy anthropologist that becomes Jim Ellison's guide on _The Sentinel_. He was played by Garett Maggart.

6: Sam Winchester is one of the two main characters on _Supernatural_. Sam is the black sheep of the Winchester family due to his insistence on going to Stanford Law School, rather than spending the rest of his life hunting demons for free. Dean is his brother and is awesome. John is his father and was the worst father in the world until his character got an improbable white-wash in the season two premiere. Sam is played by Jared Padalecki, Dean is played by (the fantastically hot) Jensen Ackles, and John is played by Jeffery Dean Morgan.

7: Rollie Tyler and Angie Ramirez are the world's greatest special effects artist and his equally talented assistant on the underrated and much-missed (at least by me) _F/X: the Series_. Rollie was played by Cameron Daddo and Angie was played by Christina Cox.

8: The unnamed starlet in question is actually Lucinda Scott, Rollie's flaky actress friend. She was played by Carrie-Anne Moss (of _Matrix_ fame).

9: Hugo 'Hurley' Reyes is quite possibly the coolest dude on JJ Abrams's _Lost_. He's played by Jorge Garcia.

10: Lionel Luthor. Not misunderstood, just evil. He is played by John Glover.

11: Syndey Bristow plays an undergrad-turned-international spy on JJ Abrams's _Alias_. Her cover job was working at a bank and she looks fantastic in a wig. She was played by Jennifer Garner.

12: Dave Rygalski was Lane's secret musician boyfriend on _Gilmore Girls_ before the actor who played him, Adam Brody, got a job as Seth Cohen over at _The O.C._.

13: Gabriel Bowman was an internet-based purveyor of supernatural talismans on _Witchblade_. He was played by John Hensley (of _Nip/Tuck_ fame).

14: _Someone_ from the Jossverse had to show up, and Xander Harris is the lucky guy. He was the hapless friend of Buffy and Willow on _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and was played by Nicholas Brendon.

15: Ben Hawkins has been hijacked from the set of _Carnivale_. Considering that show is set in the Depression, it's not surprising that he's happy to be working. Ben was played by Nick Stahl.

**Author's Notes**: Big thank you to my beta, Xanthe.


End file.
